_^M^M*H 


THE  ISLAND  OF  REGENERATION 


'SHE    NESTLED    IN    HIS    ARMS    WITH    A    SENSE 
OF    JOY    AND    SATISFACTION    AND 

HELPLESSNESS"    (Page  147) 


The  Island  of 
Regeneration 

A  Story  of  What  ought  to  be 
By  CYRUS  TOWNSEND   BRADY 

Author  of  ««  Richard  the  Brazen,"  etc. 


WITH  FOUR   ILLUSTRATIONS 
BY   THE   KINNEYS 


A.  L.   BURT  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 


COPTRIGHT,  1909,  BY  W.  G.  CHAPMAlJ 

COPYRIGHT,  1909,  BY 
DODD,   MEAD    AND    COMPANY 

Published,  September,  IQOQ 

Second  Edition,  September,  1909 
Third  Edition,  November,  1909 
Fourth  Edition,  November,  1909 
Fifth  Edition,  January,  1910 
Sixth  Edition  March,  1910 


fita* 


TS 

1=3.0 


11/0 


With  constantly  increasing  affection  and  admiration, 

I  dedicate  this  book  to  my  friend, 

BEVERLY  E.  WARNER 


CONTENTS 

BOOK   I.    THE   ISLAND 

CHAPTER  *AGK 

I   THE  PRIMITIVE  NORM     .     .     w    r.i    M  ™  3 

II   CONSCIOUS  OF  His  MANHOOD    >,    ,.,    M  ,.,  17 

III  THE  WORD  OF  THE  BOOK    ,;    M    w    M  ,..  33 

IV  LESSON  AND  LABOR     .     .     .,    t.,    r.i    1.1  w  54 
V.  THE  VOICES  OF  THE  PAST     >;     [.,    M  „•  66 

BOOK   II.    THE   SHIP 

VI   THE  BASELESS  FABRIC     .     :rt    ,.-    M    M  ,.:  81 

VII   THE  JOY  OF  FREEDOM     .     r.:    w    ^    M  r.i  91 

VIII   CAST  UP  BY  THE  SEA    ,.,    ^    w    i.,    t.,  »  107 

BOOK  III.    THE   REVELATION 

IX   LATENT  PASSIONS     .     -.     M    :.:    w    M  :.:  123 

X   HEARTS  AWAKENED    .     .     •„    „,    ,.:     .•  :..  139 

XI   THE  CONSCIENCE  QUICKENED  ^    ,.:     .  .:  153 

XII   THE  SHIP  ON  THE  HORIZON    „,    ...    :.  «,  166 

BOOK  IV.    THE  COMING  OE  THE  WORLD 

XIII  THE  LONG  SEARCH     .    ,.,    >,    ,.;    ;.     .  .  181 

XIV  PAST  AND  PRESENT .  19? 

XV   ACCUSATION  AND  ADMISSION     ....  209 

XVI    CONFRONTED     .........  219 

XVII   THE  WOMAN'S  PLEA    ..,    *..    M    M    M,  .  236 


Contents 

CHAPTEB  PAGE 

XVIII    DIVIDED .     .     .  256 

XIX    THE  MAN'S  FAILURE 270 

XX   THE  REPENTANCE  THAT  CAME  Too  LATE  283 

BOOK   V.    ABANDONED 

XXI    THE  RESURRECTION .  303 

XXII    UNAVAILING  APPEAL     .      .      .     .     .     ...  314 

BOOK  VI.    THE   NEW  LIFE 

XXIII  A  GREAT  PURPOSE     .......  329 

XXIV  A  PROMISE  BROKEN     .........  34* 

XXV   UNITED                             .     .     .     ...     .:     .  35 1 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"  She  nestled  in  his  arms  with  a  sense  of  joy 
and  satisfaction  and  helplessness"  (page 
147) Frontispiece 

FACING    PAGE 

"  He  held  in  his  hand  fruit  of  some  kind.  It 
might  have  been  poison.  What  mattered 
it?" 10 

"'Thou   shalt   not  kill!'" 224 

"  She  had  sacrificed  herself,  buried  herself  alive 
for  him" 306 


BOOK   I 
THE   ISLAND 


THE    PRIMITIVE    NORM 

WHETHER  she  had  fainted  or  fallen  asleep,  she  did 
not  know,  but  of  this  one  thing  she  was  sure:  it 
had  been  dark  when  consciousness  left  her  and  it 
was  now  broad  day,  although  the  light  seemed  to 
come  to  her  with  a  greenish  tinge  which  was  quite 
unfamiliar.  The  transition  between  her  state  of  yes 
terday  and  that  of  to-day  was  as  great  as  if  she  had 
been  born  into  morning  from  the  womb  of  midnight. 
Like  a  young  animal  vaguely  stirring  she  drank  in 
life  blindly  with  closed  eyes.  She  could  hear  the 
thunderous  roaring  of  the  breakers  crashing  upon 
the  barrier  reef.  Alone — her  boat  had  been 
wrecked  in  the  darkness  of  the  night  before — the 
noise  softened  and,  mellowed  by  distance,  came  to 
her  in  a  deep,  low  accompaniment  to  the  sharper  and 
nearer  sounds  of  the  birds  singing  and  the  breeze 
rustling  gently  through  the  long  leaves  of  the  trees 
overhead. 

The  dry  sand  on  which  she  lay  was  soft  and  yield 
ing  and  made  a  comfortable  bed  for  her  tired  body, 
racked  with  weary  days  in  the  constraint  and  nar 
rowness  of  a  small  boat.  It  was  hot,  too.  She 
had  been  drenched  and  cold  when  she  scrambled  on 
the  shore  and  fell  prostrate  on  the  beach,  retaining 


4  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

just  strength  enough  and  purpose  enough  to  crawl 
painfully  inward  to  where  the  tall  palms  grew  be 
fore  she  lapsed  in  whatsoever  way  it  might  have 
been  into  oblivion,  and  the  warmth  of  the  shore  was 
very  grateful  to  her. 

Incoherent  thoughts  raced  through  her  bewildered 
brain;  each  one,  however,  bringing  her  a  little  nearer 
the  awakening  point  of  realization.  Then  there 
ran  through  her  young  body  a  primal  pang  which 
dispelled  the  tremulous  and  vague  illusions  which 
her  fancy  had  woven  about  herself  as  she  lay  warm 
and  snug  and  sunny  at  the  foot  of  the  tall  trees.  She 
realized  that  she  was  frightfully  thirsty,  so  thirsty 
that  she  did  not  know  how  hungry  she  was. 

The  demand  of  the  material  awakened  the  ani 
mal  in  her.  Her  thoughts  centered  instantly;  they 
were  at  once  localized  on  one  supreme  desire.  Coin- 
cidently  her  eyes  unclosed,  and  she  sat  up,  blinking 
in  the  strong  light.  The  rising  sun,  still  low  on 
the  horizon,  smote  her  full  in  the  eyes  and  left  her 
for  the  moment  dazed  again.  She  sat  leaning  upon 
her  hands  extended  behind  her  back,  staring  sea 
ward,  saying  nothing,  thinking  nothing,  until  a 
strange  sound  to  the  right  of  her  attracted  her  at 
tention.  It  was  a  sound  made  by  a  human  voice, 
and  yet  it  was  like  nothing  human  that  she  had  ever 
heard.  It  was  a  wordless,  languageless  ejaculation, 
but  it  aroused  her  interest  at  once  despite  her  mate 
rial  cravings. 


She  weakly  turned  her  head,  and  there,  standing 
erect  with  folded  arms,  looking  down  upon  her,  was 
a  man.  He  was  unclothed  entirely  save  for  a  fan 
tastic  girdle  of  palm  leaves  about  his  waist.  She 
stared  at  him  puzzled,  amazed,  affrighted.  He  re 
turned  her  look  with  an  intent  curiosity  in  which 
there  was  no  suggestion  of  evil  purpose,  rather  a 
great  incomprehension,  an  amazing  wonderment. 
There  was  nothing  about  him,  save  the  fact  that  he 
was  there,  which  should  have  caused  any  alarm  in 
her  heart,  for  with  a  woman's  swift  mastery  of  the 
possibilities  of  the  other  sex,  she  noticed  in  her 
vague  terror  and  wonderment  that  he  was  remark 
ably  good  to  look  at.  Indeed,  she  thought  that  she 
had  never  seen  so  splendid  a  specimen  of  physical 
manhood  as  that  before  her.  In  color  he  was  white. 
Save  that  he  was  bronzed  by  the  tropic  sun,  he  was 
perhaps  whiter  than  she  was.  His  hair,  which  hung 
about  his  head  in  a  wild,  matted  tangle,  not  unpic- 
turesque,  was  golden ;  his  eyes  bright  blue.  Beneath 
his  beard,  unkempt  but  short  and  curly,  she  could 
see  his  firm,  clean-cut  lips.  His  proportions  were 
superb.  He  was  limbed  and  chested  like  the  Apollo 
Belvidere.  In  him  grace  and  strength  strove  for 
predominance.  He  was  totally  unlike  all  that  she 
had  read  of  the  aborigines  of  the  South  Seas. 

Instantly  she  saw  him  he  naturally  became  the  ob 
ject  of  her  undivided  attention.  There  was  much 
in  Nature  that  might  have  awakened  her  interest. 


6  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

She  sat  in  the  shadow  of  great  palms;  below  her 
hung  a  long  reach  of  sand  dazzlingly  white  in  the 
sun.  Bordering  this  was  a  smooth  expanse  of  sea, 
waveless  and  still  and  bluer  than  any  heaven  she  had 
ever  looked  into.  Beyond  that  ran  the  jagged  edge 
of  the  barrier  reef,  white-crested  with  foam  from 
long  assaulting  breakers  rolling  landward  over 
countless  leagues  of  seas.  Back  of  her  and  on  either 
side  the  ground,  gently  undulating,  was  covered  with 
the  luxuriant  verdure  of  the  tropics.  The  island 
was  set  in  the  blue  of  the  Pacific  like  an  emerald 
bordered  with  pearls  and  sunk  in  a  great  sapphire 
of  flashing  light.  She  would  have  time  to  grow 
accustomed  to  this  scene.  Through  weary  days  of 
staring  seaward  and  longing  for  that  which  never 
came,  it  would  be  imprinted  upon  her  soul,  etched 
upon  her  consciousness  with  a  graver's  burin  of  un 
satisfied  desire.  But  for  the  moment  the  one  object 
of  her  faculties  was  the  man.  Before  Nature,  in 
Nature,  throughout  Nature,  the  supreme  interest  is 
always  in  Man. 

In  her  surprise,  astonishment,  admiration,  and  curi 
osity  she  even  forgot  for  the  moment  that  she  was 
hungry  and  that  she  was  thirsty;  that  she  was  starv 
ing  for  food  and  dying  for  water  while  she  looked 
upon  him.  She  was  not  the  first  woman  nor  will 
she  be  the  last  to  forget  earth  and  sea  and  every 
material  passion  while  she  looked  upon  a  man.  So 
Eve  might  have  looked  on  Adam,  awakening  in  the 


primal  dawn.  Nay,  from  his  view  point,  so  Adam 
might  have  looked  on  Eve  at  that  selfsame  hour. 
For  this  woman  had  looked  on  many  men ;  this  man 
had  seen  no  woman  but  this — at  least  since  he  clung 
to  his  mother's  breast! 

It  was  the  man  who  broke  the  silence,  as  it  had 
been  the  man  whose  hard  stare  had  broken  the 
spell  of  her  slumber  although  she  knew  it  not.  He 
made  that  queer  little  chuckling  noise  in  his  throat 
which  sounded  familiar  enough,  albeit  she  had  heard 
it  from  the  lips  of  no  man  before.  It  meant  nothing 
to  her  except  that  he  who  stood  before  her  at  least 
was  not  dumb,  although  the  noise  he  made  was  cer 
tainly  no  articulate  speech  as  she  knew  speech  or 
could  imagine  it. 

At  any  rate  it  was  a  stimulus  to  her.  She  opened 
her  own  parched  lips  and  strove  to  make  reply,  but 
her  thirst,  with  a  rising  terror  and  nervousness, 
made  her  dumb  and  no  sound  came  forth.  The  man 
might  be  preparing  to  kill  her.  He  could  do  so,  if 
he  willed,  she  thought,  but  she  must  drink  or  die. 
If  she  could  not  speak,  she  could  make  signs.  She 
leaned  forward,  raised  her  arm,  hollowed  her  hand 
and  dipped  as  if  from  a  well  and  made  as  if  to  pour 
it  into  her  lips.  Then  she  stretched  out  both  her 
hands  to  him 'in  the  attitude  of  petition.  The  man 
stared  hard  at  her.  His  brow  wrinkled.  It  was 
such  a  simple  sign  that  any  savage  would  have  com 
prehended  it,  she  thought,  and  yet  it  appeared  to 


8  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

her,  watching  in  despair,  that  it  took  a  long  time 
for  the  idea  to  beat  into  his  brain.  She  could  wait 
no  longer.  She  rose  to  her  knees  and  stretched  out 
her  hands  again. 

"  Water  1 "  she  gasped  in  a  hoarse  whisper. 
"Water,  or  I  die!" 

The  man  had  started  violently  at  her  speech. 
Giving  him  no  time  to  recover,  she  went  through 
the  motion  again,  this  time  with  greater  effect,  for 
the  man  turned  and  vanished.  She  sank  down  on 
the  sand  too  exhausted  to  follow  him  even  with  her 
eyes.  If  he  brought  the  water,  she  would  drink  it 
and  live;  if  he  did  not,  she  would  lie  where  she  was 
and  die.  She  did  not  care  much,  she  thought,  which 
would  happen.  She  had  so  sickened  of  life  before 
she  essayed  that  open  boat,  that  she  believed  it  was 
simply  an  animal  craving  in  her  which  would  make 
her  take  the  water  in  case  it  should  be  brought  her. 
And  yet  when  he  did  appear  with  a  cocoanut  shell 
brimming  with  clear,  sparking  liquid,  she  felt 
as  though  the  elixir  of  life  had  been  proffered 
her. 

She  seized  the  shell  with  both  hands,  which  yet 
so  trembled  that  most  of  the  precious  water  spilled 
on  her  dress  as  she  carried  it  to  her  parched  lips. 
This  was  good  ip  the  end,  for  if  that  vessel  had  been 
the  famed  Jotunheim  drinking  horn,  she  would  have 
drained  it  dry  ere  she  set  it  down.  As  it  was,  she 
got  but  little;  yet  that  little  was  enough  to  set  her 


The  Island  9 

heart  beating  once  more.  Emptying  the  shell  of 
the  last  drop — and  with  that  keenness  of  percep 
tion  which  her  long  training  had  intensified  and 
developed,  marking  the  while  that  it  had  not  been 
cut  clean  by  any  knife  or  saw  or  human  implement, 
but  was  jagged  and  broken  as  if  from  a  fall,  she 
dropped  it  on  the  sand  and  looked  again  toward  the 
man.  He  held  in  his  hand  fruit  of  some  kind,  she  did 
not  know  what  it  was.  It  might  have  been  poison. 
What  mattered  it?  Having  drunk  she  must  also 
eat.  She  took  it.  It  looked  edible,  it  was  inviting 
to  the  eye,  and  as  she  sunk  her  teeth  into  it,  she 
found  it  agreeable  to  the  taste  also.  He  had  brought 
it  to  her.  If  he  had  meant  harm,  present  harm, 
surely  he  would  not  have  given  the  water.  She  ate 
it  confidently. 

As  the  man  saw  her  partake  of  what  he  had  given 
her,  he  clapped  his  hands  and  laughed.  She  was 
grateful  for  that  laugh.  It  was  more  human  than 
the  babbling  sounds  which  he  had  made  before. 

There  was  but  little  of  the  fruit,  just  what  a  child 
would  have  brought,  and  this  again  was  good  for 
her,  for  had  there  been  an  abundance,  in  her  need 
she  would  have  eaten  until  she  made  herself  ill. 
When  she  had  eaten,  she  rose  to  her  feet.  Before 
doing  this  she  had  extended  her  hand  to  him  as  if 
seeking  assistance,  but  he  had  simply  stared  at  her 
uncomprehending  and  she  had  been  forced  to  get 
to  her  feet  unaided.  Once  standing,  she  trembled 


IO  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

and  would  have  fallen  but  that  she  caught  his  arm 
and  steadied  herself  by  holding  tightly  to  it.  The 
man  at  her  touch  started  back.  Color  came  and 
went  In  his  face;  little  shudders  swept  over  him;  his 
mouth  opened;  he  looked  at  her  with  a  singular  ex 
pression  of  awe  not  unmixed  with  terror  in  his  eyes, 
for  this  was  the  first  time  in  his  recollection,  or  what 
would  have  been  his  recollection  if  his  retrospective 
faculties  had  been  developed,  that  he  had  ever  felt 
the  touch  of  a  woman's  hand,  of  any  human  hand 
upon  him. 

Noticing  his  peculiar  demeanor  in  the,  to  her, 
perfectly  natural  situation,  the  woman,  summoning 
some  of  the  remains  of  the  reserve  of  force  which 
is  in  every  human  body  until  life  is  gone,  released 
his  arm  and  stared  about  her,  leaning  against  the 
trunk  of  the  nearest  palm.  This  time,  and  for  the 
first  time,  she  took  in  that  great  expanse  of  sea, 
lonely  yet  beautiful,  upon  which  her  eyes  were  to 
look  so  often.  Out  of  the  deep  and  the  night  she 
had  come.  Into  what  deep  and  into  what  day  had 
she  arrived? 

She  turned  and  surveyed  the  shore.  The  beach 
curved  sharply  to  the  right  and  to  the  left,  the  long 
barrier  reef  following  roughly  is  contour  until 
the  land  obscured  it  on  either  side.  Back  of  her 
stretched  a  grove  of  palms  and  back  of  that  rose 
a  hill;  its  crest,  bare  and  craglike,  towered  above  a 
sea  of  verdure.  Through  a  chance  vista  she  saw  the 


'HE      HELD    IX     HIS     HAND    FRUIT    OF    SOME 

KIND.     ...     IT    MIGHT     HAVE     BEEN 

POISON.      WHAT  MATTERED  IT?" 


The  Island  n 

mass  of  rock  as  a  mountain  peak.  On  one  side  of 
her  high  precipitous  cliffs  ran  down  close  to  the 
shore  and  shut  out  the  view.  Over  them  water  fell 
to  the  beach. 

Save  in  the  person  of  the  man  beside  her  there 
was  not  an  evidence  of  humanity  anywhere.  No 
curl  of  smoke  rose  above  the  trees.  No  distant  call 
of  human  voices  smote  the  fearful  hollow  of  her 
car.  The  breeze  made  music  in  the  tall  palms  and 
in  the  thick  verdure  farther  up  the  hillside,  birds 
sang  softly  here  and  there,  but  about  her  a  tropic  still 
ness  prevailed,  to  which  -.ne  great  heaving  diapason  on 
the  distant  barriers  wr.s  a  foundation  of  sound  upon 
which  to  build  a  lonciy  quiet.  Human  beings  there 
might  be,  there  must  be,  on  that  island,  if  island  it 
were;  but  if  so,  they  must  be  abiding  on  the  farther 
side.  She  and  the  man  were  alone. 

Standing  on  her  feet,  with  a  slight  renewal  of  her 
strength  from  what  she  had  eaten  and  drunk,  the 
woman  now  felt  less  fear  of  the  man.  He  had 
treated  her  kindly.  His  aspect  was  gentle,  even 
amiable.  He  looked  at  her  wistfully,  bending  his 
brows  from  time  to  time  and  ever  and  again  shaking 
his  head,  as  a  great  dog  looks  at  the  master  with 
whom  he  would  fain  speak,  whose  language  he  would 
fain  understand,  to  whom  he  would  fain  impart 
his  own  ideas  if  he  could. 

She  stared  at  him  perplexed.  She  was  entirely 
at  loss  what  to  do,  until  her  eyes,  roving  past  him, 


12  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

detected  a  dark  object  on  the  water  line  just  where 
the  still  blueness  touched  the  white  sand.  The  sun 
light  was  reflected  from  a  surface  of  metal,  and 
thinking  that  she  recognized  it,  she  stepped  from 
the  shade  of  the  palms  and  made  her  way  unsteadily 
toward  it.  The  man,  without  a  sound,  followed 
closely  at  her  side. 

Her  vision  had  been  correct,  for  she  drew  out  of 
the  sand  a  leather  handbag,  such  as  women  carry. 
It  had  been  elaborately  fitted  with  bottles  and  mir 
rors  and  toilet  articles.  Alas,  it  was  in  a  sad  state 
of  dilapidation  now.  The  bottles  were  broken, 
their  contents  gone.  The  bag  had  been  lying  in  the 
boat  when  it  had  been  hurled  on  the  barrier  in  the 
night,  and  the  same  storm  and  tide  which  had  borne 
her  ashore  had  cast  it  also  on  the  sand.  It  had  come 
open  in  the  battering  and  its  contents  were  pitiably 
ruined.  With  eager  eyes  and  fingers  she  examined 
everything.  She  found  intact  a  little  mirror,  a  pair 
of  scissors,  a  little  housewife,  which  was  not  a  part 
of  the  fittings,  and  she  wondered  how  it  failed  of 
being  washed  away,  two  combs,  and  a  package  of 
hairpins. 

She  had  fought  against  starvation  and  thirst  and 
loneliness  and  despair  as  she  had  fought  against 
men,  and  she  had  not  given  way.  She  had  set  her 
teeth  and  locked  her  hands  and  endured  hardship 
like  the  stoutest-hearted,  most-determined  soldier  in 
the  history  of  human  struggles.  But  as  the  real- 


The  Island  13 

ization  of  this  small  misfortune  burst  upon  her,  she 
sank  down  on  the  sands  and  put  her  head  in  her 
hands  and  sobbed.  Tears  did  her  good.  She  had 
her  cry  out,  utterly  unhindered,  for  the  man  stood 
by,  shaking  his  head  and  staring  at  her  and  making 
those  strange  little  sounds,  but  offering  in  no  way  to 
molest  her. 

The  water  was  beautifully  clear  and  she  could  see 
on  the  other  side  of  the  barrier  the  remains  of  her 
boat.  Perhaps  some  time,  if  there  were  need,  she 
could  get  at  that  boat,  but  for  the  present  all  the 
flotsam  and  jetsam  of  her  wild  and  fearful  voyage 
lay  in  a  water-soaked  bag  full  of  broken  glass  and 
battered  silver  from  which  she  had  rescued  a  pair  of 
scissors,  a  mirror,  two  combs,  a  housewife  full  of 
rusty  needles,  and  some  hairpins.  O  vanitas  van- 
it  atum! 

She  was  wearing  a  serviceable  dress  of  blue  serge 
with  a  sailor's  blouse  and  a  short  skirt.  Putting  her 
precious  treasure  trove  within  the  loose  blouse  and 
carrying  the  battered  bag,  which  she  meant  to  ex 
amine  more  carefully  later,  she  turned  and  made 
for  the  shade  of  the  trees  again.  For  one  thing, 
the  sun,  rising  rapidly,  was  gaining  power  and  beat 
ing  down  with  great  force  upon  her  bare  head.  She 
had  enjoyed  the  protection  of  a  wonderfully  plaited 
straw  hat  on  her  long  voyage,  else  she  could  not 
have  borne  the  heat,  but  that,  too,  was  gone. 

As  she  walked  inward,  she  noticed  again  off  to  her 


14  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

right  that  stream  of  water  which  dropped  over  the 
tall  cliff  in  a  slender  waterfall  making  a  sweet  in 
viting  pool  at  the  base  before  it  ran  through  the 
sands  toward  the  sea.  She  made  her  way  thither 
and  at  the  brink  knelt  down  and  took  long  draughts 
of  it.  Eating  and  drinking  evidently  went  together 
in  the  mind  of  the  man,  for  when  she  raised  her 
head,  she  found  him  standing  before  her  with  both 
hands  filled  with  some  of  the  fruit  she  had  partaken 
of  before  and  other  fruit.  She  thought  she  recog 
nized  the  breadfruit  and  a  species  of  banana.  At 
any  rate,  she  ate  again  and,  having  by  this  time  re 
covered  to  some  extent  her  mental  poise,  she  ate 
sparingly  and  with  caution. 

Then  having  satisfied  her  material  needs,  she 
knelt  down  by  the  stream  again  and  washed  her  face 
and  hands.  How  sweet  was  the  freshness  of  that 
water  to  her  face,  burned  by  the  sun  and  the  wind 
and  subjected  for  a  long  time  to  the  hard  spray  of 
the  briny  seas !  She  would  have  been  glad  to  have 
taken  off  her  clothing  and  plunged  into  the  pool,  to 
have  washed  the  salt  of  days  from  her  tired  body, 
to  have  had  the  stimulus  and  refreshment  of  Its 
sparkling  coolness  over  her  weary  limbs.  But  in 
the  presence  of  her  doglike  attendant  this  was  not 
yet  possible. 

Still  she  could  and  must  arrange  her  hair.  Of 
all  the  articles  in  her  dressing  bag,  she  was  more 
fervently  thankful  at  that  moment  for  the  combs 
than  anything  else,  the  combs  and  the  little  mirror 


The  Island  i$ 

and  the  hairpins — small  things  indeed,  but  human 
happiness  as  a  rule  turns  on  things  so  small  that 
the  investigator  and  promoter  thereof  generally 
overlook  them.  And  we  know  not  the  significance 
of  the  little  until  upon  some  desert  island  we  are 
left  with  only  that. 

Washed,  fed,  and  dressed — for  it  is  astonishing 
the  difference  that  the  neat  coils  in  which  she  ar 
ranged  her  hair  made  in  her  appearance — and  now 
in  her  right  mind,  she  rose  to  her  feet.  As  she  did 
so,  as  an  experiment,  she  handed  the  man  the  little 
silver-backed  mirror.  He  stared  into  it  and  again 
uttered  that  cry  of  surprise.  Then  he  turned  it 
around  as  if  to  look  on  the  other  side.  Then  he 
looked  again  and  still  again.  She  took  it  from 
him  unresisting;  his  eyes  full  of  strange  terror. 
Life  was  full  of  surprises  for  him  that  day.  He  had 
not  only  been  touched  by  a  woman,  but  he  had 
looked  at  a  man  as  well. 

She  put  the  mirror  into  her  waist  and  then  looked 
at  her  watch.  By  a  miracle  it  was  still  running,  and 
in  a  panic  lest  it  should  run  down  and  she  be  time 
less,  she  wound  it  up  again,  while  he  watched  her 
with  the  same  great  interest.  She  would  learn  pres 
ently  that  time  on  that  island  was  the  least  notable 
of  all  facts  and  the  least  valuable  of  all  the  things 
that  she  had  to  spend. 

It  was  still  early,  about  eight  o'clock.  How  was 
she  to  pass  the  day?  She  must  do  something.  She 
felt  she  could  not  sit  idly  staring  from  sea  to  shore. 


16  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

She  must  be  moving.  No  business  called  her;  she 
must  invent  some.  The  compelling  necessity  of  a 
soul  not  born  for  idleness  was  upon  her.  She  would 
explore  the  land.  That  was  logically  the  first  thing 
to  be  done  any  way,  and  this  was  a  highly  trained 
woman  who  thought  to  live  by  rule  and  law,  albeit 
her  rules  were  poor  ones. 

She  started  inland,  the  man  following  after.  She 
had  gained  confidence  in  herself  with  every  passing 
moment.  ,  The  man  who  looked  at  her  as  a  dog  she 
would  treat  as  one.  She  must  have  some  privacy. 
She  could  not  always  have  him  trailing  at  her  heels. 
She  turned  by  a  great  boulder,  pointed  to  it,  laid 
her  hand  on  the  man's  shoulder  and  gently  forced 
him  to  a  sitting  position  by  it.  Then  she  walked 
away.  He  stared  wistfully  after  her  departing  fig 
ure,  and  as  she  turned  around  to  look  at  him,  he 
sprang  to  his  feet. 

"No,  no!  "  she  cried  imperatively,  making  back 
ward  threatening  motions  with  her  hands,  whereat 
he  resumed  his  sitting  position,  staring  at  her  until 
he  lost  her  among  the  trees. 

Presently  she  turned  and  came  back  to  him.  It 
was  so  deathly  lonely  without  him.  He  leaped  to 
his  feet  as  he  sa^  her  coming  and  clapped  his  hands 
as  a  child  might  have  done,  his  face  breaking  out 
into  a  smile  that  was  both  trustful  and  touching. 
She  felt  better  since  she  had  him  under  this  control, 
and  together  they  walked  on  under  the  trees. 


CHAPTER   II 

CONSCIOUS    OP     HIS     MANHOOD 

HIGH  noon,  and  they  were  back  at  the  Banding  place, 
and  she  at  least  was  very  tired.  Accompanied  by 
the  man,  who  made  not  the  slightest  attempt  to  guide 
her,  after  some  difficulty  she  had  succeeded  in  forc 
ing  her  way  through  the  trees  to  the  top  of  the  hill. 
Part  of  the  time  she  had  followed  the  course  of  the 
rivulet  from  which  she  had  drunk  at  the  foot  of  the 
cliff.  She  was  determined  to  get  to  the  top,  for  she 
must  see  what  was  upon  the  other  side.  Humanity's 
supreme  desire  when  facing  the  hills  has  always  been 
to  see  what  was  on  the  other  side.  The  stimulus  of 
the  unknown  was  upon  her,  but  it  was  coupled  with 
a  very  lively  wish  begot  of  stern  necessity  to  know 
what  there  was  to  be  known  of  the  land  upon  which 
she  had  been  cast  up  by  the  sea. 

Her  view  from  the  hilltop — she  did  not  essay  the 
unclothed  and  jagged  peak,  she  could  make  her 
way  around  its  base  and  see  all  that  there  was  to  see 
— was  not  reassuring.  She  could  detect  on  the  other 
side  of  the  island  no  more  evidences  of  life  than 
were  presented  by  that  she  had  first  touched  upon. 
In  every  direction  lay  the  unvexed  sea.  The  day 

17 


1 8  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

was  brilliantly  clear;  there  was  not  a  cloud  in  the 
sky.  No  mist  dimmed  the  translucent  purity  of  the 
warm  air.  Nothing  broke  the  far  horizon.  The 
island,  fair  and  beautiful,  was  set  alone  in  a  mighty 
ocean.  In  so  far  as  she  could  tell,  she  and  the  man 
were  alone  upon  it.  The  thought  oppressed  her. 
She  strove  to  throw  it  off.  The  silence  of  the  man 
oppressed  her  as  well.  She  turned  to  him  at  last 
and  cried  out,  the  words  wrung  from  her  by  the 
horror  of  the  situation : 

"  Man,  man,  whence  came  you?  How  are  you 
called?  What  language  do  you  speak?  Why  arc 
you  here?  " 

The  sound  of  her  own  voice  gave  her  courage. 
Waiting  for  no  answer,  and  indeed  she  realized  that 
none  could  come,  she  stepped  to  the  brow  of  the 
hill  where  the  trees  happened  not  to  be  and,  raising 
her  voice,  called  and  called  and  called.  There  were 
answering  echoes  from  the  jagged  crag  behind  her, 
but  when  these  died  away,  there  was  silence,  un 
broken  save  by  the  queer  babbling,  chuckling  noises 
of  the  man. 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  sudden  sinking  of  the 
heart.  Had  this  godlike  creature  roaming  the 
woods,  this  Faun  of  the  island,  been  denied  a  brain, 
articulate  speech?  Was  she  doomed  to  spend  the 
rest  of  her  life  alone  in  this  Paradise  of  the  Pacific 
with  a  harmless  madman  forever  by  her  side?  What 
a  situation  was  that  in  which  she  found  herself? 


The  Island  19 

She  was  a  highly  specialized  product  of  the  great 
est  of  universities.  In  science  and  in  philosophy 
she  was  a  master  and  a  doctor.  She  should  have  had 
resources  within  herself  which  would  enable  her  to 
be  independent  of  the  outside  world,  a  world  in 
which  her  experience,  self-bought,  had  been  bitter, 
in  which  the  last  few  weeks  had  been  one  long  dis 
illusionment.  And  yet  she  was  now  overwhelmed 
with  a  craving  for  companionship,  for  articulate 
speech,  as  if  she  had  never  looked  into  a  book  or 
given  a  thought  to  the  deep  things  of  life.  If  this 
man  beside  her  would  only  do  something,  say  some 
thing,  be  something  rather  than  a  silent  satellite  for 
ever  staring  in  wonder.  If  she  could  only  solve 
the  mystery  of  his  presence,  answer  the  interroga 
tion  that  his  very  existence  there  alone  presented. 

Her  future,  her  present,  indeed,  should  have  en 
grossed  her  mind.  What  she  was  to  do,  how  she 
was  to  live,  the  terrible  problems  in  which  his 
presence  on  the  island  involved  her,  should  have 
been  the  objects  of  her  attention;  they  should  have 
afforded  food  for  thought  to  the  keenest  of  women. 
She  simply  forgot  them  in  her  puzzled  wonder  at 
him.  It  would  have  been  much  simpler  from  one 
point  of  view  if  she  had  found  the  island  uninhab 
ited,  and  yet  since  the  man  was  human  and  alive,  in 
spite  of  her  judgment,  her  heart  was  glad  that  he 
was  there. 

She  motioned  to  him  to  sit  down  and  then  she  sat 


2O  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

in  front  of  him  and  studied  him.  He  looked  as 
little  like  a  fool  as  like  a  knave.  She  could  indeed 
detect  no  evidences  of  any  intellectual  ability,  but 
she  thought,  as  she  studied  him  keenly,  that  he  pos 
sessed  unlimited  intellectual  possibilities.  There  was 
a  mind  back  of  those  bright  blue  eyes,  that  broad, 
noble  brow,  but  it  seemed  to  her  a  mind  entirely 
undeveloped,  a  mind  utterly  latent.  Here  was  a 
soul,  she  thought,  half  in  fancy,  half  in  earnest,  that 
was  virgin  to  the  world.  Howsoever  wise,  howso 
ever  deeply  learned  she  might  be,  she  was  face  to 
face  with  this  primeval  norm. 

Could  she  teach  this  man  anything?  He  seemed 
tractable,  reverential,  deferential  now.  Knowledge 
was  power.  Would  it  be  power  with  him?  Could 
she  open  those  sealed  doors  of  his  mind,  what  floods 
would  outpour  therefrom,  of  power,  of  passion? 
Would  she  be  swept  away?  It  mattered  not.  She 
must  try.  The  impulse  seized  her  to  begin  now. 
Fixing  her  dark  eyes  upon  him,  she  pointed  directly 
at  him  with  her  finger. 

"  Man,"  she  said  clearly  and  emphatically. 

He  was  always  looking  at  her.  He  had  scarcely 
taken  his  eyes  from  her  since  she  had  seen  him  in 
the  tall  grass  by  the  shore,  but  at  her  gesture  and 
word  his  eyes  brightened.  There  was  that  little 
wrinkling  of  the  brow  again  which  she  had  noticed, 
outward  and  visible  sign  of  an  inward  attempt  at 
comprehension. 


The  Island  21 

"  Man!"  she  said  passionately.  "  Man,"  she  re 
peated  over  and  over  again. 

And  then  the  unexpected  happened.  After  in 
numerable  guttural  attempts,  her  unwitting  pupil 
managed  to  articulate  something  that  bore  a  distinct 
resemblance  to  the  clearly  cut  monosyllable. 

"Man!"  he  said  at  last. 

It  was  a  tremendous  step  in  evolution,  almost  too 
great  for  any  untutored  human  brain,  for  at  once 
the  man  before  her  received  a  name,  and  the  idea  of 
name  as  well.  In  that  instant,  on  that  heaven  kiss 
ing  hill,  he  was  differentiated  from  all  the  rest  of 
creation  forever.  His  consciousness,  hitherto  vague, 
floating,  incoherent,  indefinite,  was  localized,  given 
a  habitation  and  a  name.  He  knew  himself  in  some 
way  to  be. 

"Man !  "  he  cried,  growing  more  and  more  con 
fident  with  every  repetition  and  more  and  more  ac 
curate  in  catching  the  very  intonation  with  which  she 
spoke. 

"  Man !  "  he  cried,  laying  his  hand  upon  his  breast. 
"  Man." 

He  leaped  to  his  feet  and  stretched  out  his  arms. 
The  doors  were  open  a  little  space.  Ideas  were  be 
ginning  to  edge  their  way  through  the  crack. 

"Man!  Man!  Man !"  he  said  again  and  again, 
looking  eagerly  at  her. 

She  rose  in  turn  and  patted  him  on  the  shoulder 
encouragingly  as  she  might  a  dog.  And  again  the 


22  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

touch,  the  third  touch  that  she  had  given  him,  af 
fected  him  strangely,  so  strangely  that  for  a  moment 
she  felt  the  soul  within  her  shrink,  but  realizing  at 
once  that  her  domination  over  him  was  spiritual  and 
immaterial,  and  that  the  slightest  evidence  of  timid 
ity  would  be  translated  into  universal  language  which 
even  the  lowest  creation  understands,  and  that  her 
dominion  would  go  on  the  instant,  she  mastered  her 
self  and  so  mastered  him.  Although  she  was  but  a 
woman  whom  he  might  have  broken  in  his  hands, 
she  dominated  him  as  the  conscious  soul  ever  dom 
inates  the  unconscious  soul. 

She  essayed  no  more  lessons,  but  turned  and  re 
traced  her  way  to  the  shore  where  she  had  landed, 
which,  because  she  had  landed  there,  she  called 
home.  On  the  way,  she  attempted  an  experiment. 
She  plucked  from  a  low  bush  a  bright-colored  fruit 
of  whose  quality  and  characteristics  she  was  ignorant 
and  slowly  made  as  if  to  convey  it  to  her  lips. 

"Man!"  cried  the  voice  behind  her,  uttering  its 
only  word. 

She  turned  to  find  her  companion  looking  fixedly 
at  her  and  proffering  other  fruit  which  he  had 
quickly  gathered.  She  handed  him  that  she  had 
plucked  in  exchange.  He  shook  his  head,  not  in 
negation  but  rather  in  bewilderment,  and  threw  it 
from  him,  and  then  she  understood  in  some  way  that 
the  fruit  was  not  good  for  food.  How  he  had  di 
vined  it,  she  could  not  tell.  Some  compensating  in- 


The  Island  23 

stinct,  sharpened  by  use  into  a  protecting  quality, 
had  taught  him.  She  had  no  such  instinct.  She 
had  learned  to  depend  upon  reason  and  observation, 
and  these  failed  her  in  the  presence  of  this  unknown. 
She  was  humbled  a  little  in  this  thought. 

She  craved  meat  and  salt,  having  been  trained 
to  these  things,  the  artificial  diet  and  stimulant  to 
which  she  had  become  accustomed,  and  her  crav 
ing  was  the  more  insistent  because  she  had  been  with 
out  them  all  that  time  in  the  boat.  And  yet  when, 
she  had  eaten  the  fruit  that  nature  had  provided 
in  that  tropic  island,  her  craving  was  abated  and  she 
was  satisfied.  She  felt  that  she  could  soon  grow  ac 
customed  to  such  a  diet  if  it  were  necessary.  So 
musing  she  passed  on  under  the  trees  and  sat  down, 
on  the  sand  again. 

The  next  thing  she  remembered,  she  was  unclos 
ing  her  eyes  as  she  had  done  early  in  the  morning, 
and  the  man  was  still  watching  by  her  side.  She 
had  been  so  utterly  tired  out  by  her  strange  adven 
ture,  by  her  long  wrestling  with  thirst  and  starvation 
in  the  open  boat,  that  before  she  knew  it,  weariness 
overcame  her  and  she  slept.  He  had  watched  by 
her  side  without  molesting  her. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  now.  The  problems  of 
the  night  had  to  be  faced.  This  time  the  man  took 
the  initiative.  He  walked  along  the  shore  a  little 
way  and  then  looked  back  at  her;  then  came  back 
to  her,  then  left  her,  and  repeated  the  process  once 


24  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

or  twice  as  a  dog  might  have  done  who  was  desir 
ous  of  bringing  his  master  to  some  appointed  place. 
Understanding,  she  rose  and  followed  him.  He  led 
her  along  the  sands,  now  shadowed  by  the  tall  palms, 
until  they  came  to  the  rivulet,  where  she  stopped  and 
drank  once  more.  They  passed  it,  he  plunging  bod 
ily  through  its  shallows;  she  leaping  from  rock  to 
rock  until  she  reached  the  other  bank.  He  went 
swiftly  around  the  face  of  the  cliff.  As  she  passed 
the  point  she  saw  that  it  curved  suddenly  inward 
away  from  the  shores  into  a  sort  of  amphitheater, 
and  fair  in  the  center  of  the  face  she  perceived  an 
opening.  He  halted  opposite  and  entered  fear 
lessly,  she  following. 

The  cave  was  roomy  and  spacious,  at  least  it 
seemed  so  in  the  fading  light.  In  the  morning  when 
the  sun  shone  through  the  opening,  it  would  be 
flooded  with  daylight,  but  now,  when  the  sun  was 
sinking  behind  the  hill,  it  was  quite  dark.  It  was 
dry  and  clean  and  apparently  empty.  The  man  stood 
looking  at  her  smiling,  at  least  there  was  a  sugges 
tion  of  a  smile  upon  his  lips.  He  was  nodding  his 
head.  She  understood  that  he  lived  there.  The  dog 
had  come  back  to  his  kennel  and  had  taken  this 
chance  acquaintance  there,  too. 

It  would  be  a  good  place  to  pass  the  night.  The 
night  had  to  be  passed  somewhere.  How,  was  the 
problem.  She  had  little  fear  of  any  savage  animals 
on  the  island.  There  had  been  no  evidences  of  them 


The  Island  2$ 

observed  in  her  progress;  the  man  himself  was  testi 
mony  to  immunity  from  attack  from  that  source. 
Had  it  not  been  for  him,  she  could  have  lain  down  in 
that  cave  with  quiet  confidence  and  slept  without  ap 
prehension  of  molestation,  but  he  complicated  the 
issue. 

Twice  he  had  watched  by  her  asleep,  but  that  was 
in  the  broad  daylight.  When  darkness  came,  what 
then?  Her  heart  was  filled  with  terror.  She  was 
suddenly  afraid  of  the  dark,  a  childish  fear  at  which 
her  soul  would  have  mocked  in  other  days  and  under 
other  conditions.  But  now  she  was  a  prey  to  vivid 
apprehension,  and  the  night  was  coming  on  with  the 
swiftness  of  the  tropics.  She  was  glad  that  she 
had  slept  through  the  long  afternoon.  She  would 
endeavor  to  keep  awake  during  the  night.  She  must 
turn  the  dog  out  of  his  kennel  and  occupy  that  her 
self.  How  was  she  to  enforce  her  will  under  the 
circumstances  ?  She  could  only  try. 

"Man!"  she  said,  pointing  to  the  door,  "go!" 
The  words  conveyed  nothing,  but  the  gesture 
meant  much.  Even  to  that  man  association  with  his 
kind  for  one  day  had  effected  a  revolution  in  him. 
He  hung  undecided,  however,  before  her,  while  she 
repeated  again  and  again  her  injunction.  Finally 
she  took  him  by  the  shoulder,  risking  the  peculiar 
emotions  that  contact  seemed  to  bring  to  him,  and 
thrust  him  gently  through  the  entrance  outside.  Then 
she  went  back  farther  into  the  cave  and  waited  with 


26  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

a  beating  heart.  She  could  see  him  silhouetted 
against  the  twilight  standing  where  she  had  left 
him.  He  came  toward  the  door  at  last  and  stood 
in  the  entrance. 

"  No,  no !  "  she  cried  fiercely,  praying  that  the 
note  of  terror  might  be  lost  in  the  imperative  tones 
of  her  voice.  "Man,  go!" 

She  stood  waiting,  and  he  likewise.  Mustering 
her  courage  at  last,  she  went  over  to  him  and  boldly 
thrust  him  out.  Again  and  again  the  little  drama 
was  played  until  by  and  by  it  became  impressed  upon 
the  mind  of  the  man  that  he  was  to  stay  out  and  she 
was  to  stay  in.  He  came  no  more  to  the  entrance.  He 
stood  outside,  aloof,  looking  in,  although  in  the 
growing  darkness  he  could  not  see  her. 

It  was  the  second  thing  he  had  learned.  The  first 
ray  of  light  in  his  dawning  consciousness  had  illu 
minated  the  ego,  the  personal,  the  concrete.  He 
was  learning  now  the  significance  of  a  verb,  and  an 
abstract  idea  was  being  bred  in  him  and  some  con 
cept  of  constraint  was  entering  his  being.  The  first 
of  those  long  checks  that  circumstances  impose  upon 
freedom  in  order  that  civilization  may  begin  to  be, 
was  meeting  him  face  to  face.  He  had  slept  in  that 
cave,  she  imagined,  for  years,  and  suddenly  he  was 
thrust  out.  There  was  no  hardship  in  that,  except 
the  hardship  in  the  necessity  for  obedience,  if  hard 
ship  that  might  be.  The  night  was  balmy  and  pleas 
ant;  no  shelter  was  needed.  It  was  the  fact  that  he 


The  Island  27 

had  to  go;  that  he  was  subject  to  another  v/ill  and 
purpose;  that  something  higher  than  himself  was 
overruling  him  which  might  be  hard.  It  would 
have  been  hard  for  the  woman.  She  thought,  how 
ever,  that  the  limited  comprehension  of  the  maii 
might  not  enable  him  to  realize  it. 

He  stood  a  long  time  on  the  sand  while  she 
watched  him.  Had  she  conquered?  Had  he  learned 
his  lesson?  Had  she  laid  foundations  upon  which 
consciousness  of  life  and  its  relations  might  be 
builded?  Would  she  be  free  from  the  terror  of 
molestation,  which  in  spite  of  herself  sought  expres 
sion  in  her  voice  and  manner?  Would  she  be  per 
mitted  to  pass  the  night  undisturbed?  Was  her 
power  over  him  sufficiently  definite  to  be  established 
and  to  be  of  value?  Suppose  she  had  not  succeeded 
in  mastering  him,  in  dominating  him?  She  shud 
dered  at  the  probabilities  involved.  Of  all  the  beasts 
of  the  field,  the  most  terrible  when  he  is  a  beast  is 
man. 

She  was  not  a  weak  woman.  She  was  above  the 
middle  height,  athletic,  splendidly  developed,  ac 
customed  to  the  exercise  of  the  gymnasium  and  the 
field,  but  her  strength  was  no  match  for  his.  One 
ray  of  safety  appeared  in  the  fact  that  she  believed 
him  ignorant  alike  of  the  extent  of  his  power  or  of 
the  possibilities  of  the  situation.  She  wondered  what 
strange  thoughts  were  going  on  in  that  latent  brain 
over  which,  by  the  use  of  moral  force  and  courage, 


28  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

she  was  striving  to  establish  domination.  She  re 
joiced  to  find  that  even  in  the  midst  of  her  anxieties 
she  could  think  so  clearly  about  the  situation. 

Did  he  know  his  lesson,  she  wondered.  She  could 
only  hope.  If  she  only  had  a  weapon,  she  thought, 
the  weakness  of  sex  might  be  equalized.  There  was 
nothing.  Yes,  her  thought  reverted  to  the  womanly 
pair  of  scissors.  With  trembling  hand  she  drew 
them  forth  and  clenched  the  little  tool  of  steel 
tightly.  It  was  a  poor  dependence,  but  the  best  she 
had.  And  then  she  drew  quietly  back  into  the  re 
cesses  of  the  cave  and  sat  down,  leaning  against  the 
wall,  her  eyes  bright  with  dread,  anticipation, 
and  curiosity.  She  watched  and  waited,  resolved, 
if  necessary,  to  remain  awake  the  long  night 
through. 

Outside  the  man  had  stood  motionless  a  long  time 
after  the  final  repulse.  The  dusk  had  not  yet  melted 
into  dark  out  there  and  he  was  easily  visible  against 
the  sky  framed  by  the  opening  as  a  dim  picture. 
She  was  hardly  aware  of  the  intensity  with  which 
she  watched  him,  and  she  was  greatly  surprised 
when  she  saw  him  at  last  kneel  down  upon  the  sands. 
She  saw  that  the  palms  of  his  hands  were  pressed  to 
gether  in  front  of  him;  that  his  head  was  bowed; 
that  his  attitude  was  that  of  prayer!  He  was  say 
ing  something.  She  could  hear  him  without  diffi 
culty.  She  could  distinguish  no  words  in  the  rude 
succession  of  sounds  that  seemed  to  come  from  his 


The  Island  29 

lips,  but  her  acute  and  quickened  perception  seemed 
to  recognize  a  nearer  resemblance  to  articulate  speech 
than  anything  she  had  yet  heard  from  him. 

What  was  he  doing?  In  a  flash  the  woman  real 
ized  that  the  man  was  praying.  The  realization 
smote  her  like  a  blow,  for  this  woman  had  long 
since  put  away  prayer.  In  her  philosophy  of  life 
there  was  no  place  for  God;  in  her  scheme  of  af 
fairs  the  divine  was  unimminent.  And  yet  alone 
on  that  island,  in  that  darkness,  despite  her  attempt 
to  mock  away  the  consciousness,  she  was  relieved  at 
that  sight. 

The  little  ritual  on  the  sand  ended  with  the  one 
word  her  pupil  knew. 

"  Man !  "  he  said,  striking  his  breast  again  and 
staring  upward  toward  the  heavens.  "  Man !  "  he 
cried,  as  if  in  his  new  consciousness  he  would  fain 
introduce  himself  to  his  Maker,  the  woman  thought. 
His  Maker!  Her  lips  writhed  into  a  bitter  smile 
that  was  half  a  sneer. 

What  would  he  do  next?  He  rose  to  his  feet 
and  peered  toward  the  door.  She  grasped  the  scis 
sors  tighter  and  held  her  breath.  But  he  had  learned 
his  lesson.  With  indescribable  relief  she  saw  him 
turn  aside  and  cast  himself  down  upon  the  sand, 
where  he  lay  motionless  before  her.  If  she  had  had 
any  faith,  she  would  have  breathed  "Thank  God." 
As  it  was,  she  was  very  glad. 

She  watched  him  a  long  time,  speculating  on  the 


30  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

questions  she  had  asked  him  on  the  hill  in  the  morn 
ing;  who  he  was;  what  he  was;  whence  he  came; 
where  he  had  learned  that  babble  of  prayer ;  why  he 
was  devoid  of  speech;  what  was  the  God  to  whom 
he  prayed?  She  would  study  those  things.  The 
problems  fascinated  her.  The  desolation  and  loneli 
ness  of  the  island  might  have  crushed  her.  Relieved 
from  her  immediate  apprehensions,  the  man  de 
lighted  her.  She  would  investigate  him,  analyze 
him,  synthesize  him,  teach  him.  She  would  mother 
him  as  a  woman  a  child.  No  such  opportunity  as 
was  hers  had  ever  presented  itself  to  a  human  being. 
Free,  as  she  imagined  herself,  from  inherited  prej 
udices,  devoid  of  old  superstitions,  crammed  with  new 
learning,  illuminated  with  new  light,  abhorrent  of 
narrow  things,  she  fancied  herself  well  fitted  for 
that  strangely  maternal  and  preceptive  role  in  which 
chance  had  placed  her.  She  would  play  upon  that 
mind,  virgin  to  her  touch,  if  she  might  use  a  woman's 
word,  until  it  ran  in  harmony  with  her  own.  Alone 
upon  that  island,  the  rest  of  the  world  away,  she 
would  find  occupation,  interest,  inspiration,  in  that 
nascent  man. 

He  lay  so  still  and  so  quiet  that  presently  she 
arose  and  tiptoed  softly  to  the  entrance,  where  un 
seen  she  could  look  down  upon  him.  The  moon 
rose  back  of  the  hill.  Although  he  was  in  the 
shadow,  there  was  still  refraction  sufficient  to  enable 
her  to  see  his  face.  He  was  asleep.  The  quiet, 


The  Island  3* 

dreamless,  unvexed  sleep  of  a  healthy  animal,  she 
thought.  Their  positions  were  reversed.  He  had 
watched  her  before  when  she  was  off  guard  and 
asleep,  with  what  dim-dumb,  inchoate  effort  it  might 
be  to  comprehend,  her.  Now  it  was  her  turn.  He 
took  no  disfavor  in  her  mind  after  her  inspection. 
He  was  a  bold,  splendid  piece  of  ...  what? 
Clay.  She  would  put  a  soul  in  him,  her  soul.  Her 
soul  was  the  only  thing  she  knew.  She  forgot,  or 
if  she  remembered  it,  disdained  the  ancient  concept 
that  before  the  dust  of  the  earth  became  alive,  it 
had  to  be  impermeated  with  the  breath  not  merely 
of  man  or  woman,  but  of  God. 

She  came  back  at  last  and  sought  her  corner,  dis 
posed  her  limbs  to  rest  and  kept  through  silent 
hours  her  lonely  vigil.  So  long  as  he  slept  she  was 
safe.  When  he  awakened,  what  then?  So  long  as 
his  mind  slept,  his  soul  slept,  his  consciousness  slept, 
she  was  safe,  but  when  they,  too,  awakened,  when 
whatsoever  light  there  might  be  that  dawns  in  per 
sonality  dispelled  the  night  of  idle  dreams  in  which 
he  lived,  what  would  happen  then? 

Instinctively  she  shrank  from  the  thought  of  the 
future.  She  was  as  one  who  had  a  potent  talisman 
in  her  hand  and  feared  to  put  it  to  the  touch.  So 
the  fisherman  in  the  Arabian  tale,  if  he  had  known 
the  contents  of  the  corked  bottle  thrown  up  from  the 
sea,  might  have  hesitated  ere  he  drew  the  stopper 
and  released  the  prisoned  spirit.  She  must  watch, 


32  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

she  must  wait,  she  must  be  on  her  guard.  She  for 
got  that  when  she  had  called  him  "  Man  "  and  laid 
her  hand  upon  his  shoulder  that  she  had  begun  an 
evolution  which  no  human  power  could  stop. 

Never  had  the  hours  seemed  so  long  and  so 
strange  to  her.  Nothing  happened.  Even  the  ca 
pacity  to  think  gives  out  in  the  strongest  mind,  the 
acutest  brain,  temporarily  or  otherwise.  She  was 
very  tired;  the  silence  was  oppressive;  the  rusty 
scissors  fell  from  her  hand  and  at  last  she  slipped 
down  upon  the  sand  and  drifted  away  into  that 
slumber,  that  suspension  of  consciousness,  in  which 
for  the  moment  she  was  even  as  the  man. 

The  upper  edge  of  the  sun  was  just  springing 
from  the  sea  when  its  level  rays  woke  her.  She 
unclosed  her  eyes  to  find  the  man  standing  in  the 
opening  of  the  cave. 


CHAPTER    III 

THE     WORD     OF     THE     BOOK 

THIS  awakening  was  not  as  had  been  that  of  yes 
terday.  She  prided  herself  on  being  in  full  posses 
sion  of  her  faculties  at  once,  and  she  arose  instantly 
and  stepped  out  upon  the  sand.  The  man  gave  way 
to  her  respectfully  as  she  passed  through  the  en 
trance.  The  mind  is  brightest  in  the  early  morning 
after  sleep.  She  would  give  him  another  concept 
before  the  uses  of  the  day  impaired  his  receptivity. 
She  had  differentiated  him  from  the  rest  of  creation 
when  she  taught  him  that  he  was  a  man.  She  would 
show  him  now  that  his  was  a  divided  empire  by  de 
claring  herself  a  sharer  in  it.  She  laid  her  hand 
upon  her  own  breast  and  said  clearly: 

"  Woman !  "  giving  the  first  syllable  the  long  "  o  " 
and  definitely  accenting  the  second.  She  pointed  to 
him  and  repeated  "  Man  " ;  to  herself  and  repeated 
"Woman."  Patiently  over  and  over  again  she  said 
the  word  until  by  and  by  he  could  say  it,  too. 

The  baby  begins  his  language  with  monosyllabic 
sounds  which  mean  little,  and  yet  which  have  been 
identified  with  the  mother.  It  was  fitting  that  this 
man,  who  was  as  a  child  and  yet  as  a  man,  should 

33 


34  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

begin  with  something  deeper  than  infantile  babble. 
Man  and  Woman! — she  drove  these  two  ideas 
into  his  consciousness  before  she  ceased  her  task. 
If  his  idea  of  man  was  at  first  infinite,  she  gave  him 
the  concept  of  limitations  immediately  following. 

He  was  avid  for  instruction.  Once  he  had  learned 
the  words,  he  babbled  them  "  man,  woman,  man, 
woman,"  until  the  iteration  was  almost  maddening. 

While  she  washed  her  face  and  hands  at  the 
stream,  he  plunged  into  a  brimming  pool  fed  by  the 
brook  ere  it  descended  to  the  sea.  She  noticed  that 
he  could  swim  like  a  fish  itself,  naturally,  instinct 
ively,  in  an  untrained  way,  of  course,  without  the 
fancy  strokes  in  which  she  had  been  taught,  but 
brilliantly  and  well  nevertheless.  She  would  have 
given  the  world  for  a  dip,  but  it  was  not  to  be,  not 
yet,  that  is. 

Then  they  breakfasted,  and  she  tried  to  teach  him 
"No"  and  "Yes"  and  the  meaning  thereof.  She 
intended  to  make  a  circuit  of  the  island  later,  but 
there  was  no  hurry.  She  began  to  realize  that  time 
was  nothing  to  her  or  to  him,  and  so  she  idled  under 
the  trees,  setting  him  tasks,  as  the  picking  of  fruit, 
and  then  stopping  him  with  "  No  " ;  then  encourag 
ing  him  with  "  Yes,"  until  he  had  some  idea  of  those 
wrords  also.  It  was  a  relief  to  her  to  get  them  firmly 
fixed  in  his  mind,  for  they  provided  him  with  al 
ternatives  to  the  man  and  woman  words  on  which 
he  harped. 


The  Island  35 

After  a  while  they  started  around  the  island.  It 
was  perhaps  six  or  eight  miles  in  circumference. 
There  was  a  sand  beach  everywhere,  except  in  one 
place  where  the  rocks  came  sheer  down  to  the  shore. 
From  what  she  could  tell  by  an  inspection  of  the 
surface  there  was  an  under-water  entrance  to  some 
cave  in  the  rocks  which  some  day  might  be  worth 
exploring.  They  could  not  follow  the  shore  at  the 
foot  of  these  cliffs,  but  managed  to  scramble  over 
them,  each  for  himself,  although  there  were  places 
where  the  man's  strong  arm  and  wonderful  agility 
— he  climbed  like  a  chamois,  she  noticed — would 
have  helped  her.  It  was  her  policy,  however,  to  be 
self-reliant,  to  depend  upon  him  for  nothing.  To  be 
independent  was  her  mental  habit,  too.  She  con 
fessed  to  no  inferiority  when  compared  with  the  other 
sex,  save  that  physical  weakness  which  was  heredi 
tary,  for  which  she  was  in  no  way  responsible,  and 
which  she  assiduously  strove  to  minimize  by  every 
means  or  expedient  at  her  command. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  island  from  the  cave, 
which  was  already  denominated  home  in  her  mind, 
she  came  across  the  remains  of  a  ship's  boat  deep 
bedded  in  the  sand.  The  boat  had  been  perhaps 
wrecked  and  broken  on  the  barrier  reef,  or  possibly 
it  had  sailed  through  the  entrance  near  at  hand — • 
the  only  opening  in  the  encircling  guard  of  splint 
ered  rock  which  she  had  seen — and  had  been  hurled 
upon  the  beach  where  it  had  lain  through  years 


36  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

until  buried  in  the  shifting  sand.  Only  the  gunwales 
of  the  boat  and  the  stem  and  the  stern  were  exposed. 
She  had  no  idea  as  to  what  its  condition  was,  but  she 
promised  that  so  soon  as  she  could  she  would  make 
shift  at  something  for  a  shovel  and  dig  it  out.  She 
gazed  at  it  for  a  long  time,  wondering  if  it  were  an 
explanation  of  the  presence  of  the  solitary  of  the 
island,  but  nothing  was  to  be  gained  by  wonderment 
and  speculation. 

A  little  stream  she  noticed  trickled  from  under  a 
thick  covert  across  the  sand  toward  the  sea.  She 
turned  and  idly  walked  away  from  the  beach,  fol 
lowing  the  stream.  The  man,  who  had  stood  with 
her  watching  the  boat,  did  not  for  a  moment  notice 
her,  but  so  soon  as  he  discovered  her  direction,  he  ran 
after  her  and,  without  offering  to  touch  her,  barred 
the  way  with  extended  arms. 

"  No,  no ! "  he  cried,  his  first  real  spontaneous  use 
of  the  word. 

She  stopped,  reflected,  waved  the  man  aside,  and 
went  on.  There  was  something  in  the  coppice  that 
he  feared.  She  had  not  known  that  he  possessed 
the  faculty.  Her  curiosity  was  too  strong  to  be 
denied.  She  must  see  what  it  was.  She  quickened 
her  pace  as  if  to  shake  him  off,  but  he  easily  kept 
by  her  side,  plaintively  ejaculating  his  monosyllabic 
negative.  It  was  evidence  that  he  knew  the  meaning 
of  the  word  she  was  glad  to  see. 

When  she  reached  the  undergrowth  of  the  cop- 


The  Island  37 

pice,  she  hesitated  in  apprehension  of  she  knew  not 
what,  but  summoning  her  courage,  parted  the  reeds 
and  peered  in  them.  She  shrank  back  with  a  sudden 
cry  of  horror,  for  at  her  feet,  the  vegetation  spring 
ing  through  in  every  direction,  lay  a  skeleton,  a  hu 
man  skeleton.  It  lay  athwart  her  path,  and  at  the 
feet  was  a  smaller  skeleton  which  she  judged  to 
be  that  of  a  dog.  With  instinctive  repugnance  she 
released  the  rushes  and  turned  hastily  away. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  the  man  by  her  side,  with  an  ex 
pression  of  unusual  relief  on  his  face  which  she 
could  scarcely  fail  to  notice. 

She  knew  that  she  could  not  thus  evade  her  duties 
or  shrink  from  her  problems.  She  had  marked  the 
gleam  of  metal  amid  the  bones.  She  knew  that  she 
would  have  to  come  back  and  examine  those  last 
remainders  of  human  presence,  other  than  their  own, 
upon  the  island,  but  she  could  not  do  it  just  then. 

She  was  of  the  stuff  that  when  the  danger  is  real 
ized  approaches  it  deliberately,  rather  than  of  the 
rash  and  headlong  courage  which  proceeds  upon  an 
undertaking  without  thought  of  consequence.  And 
yet,  in  spite  of  the  possibilities  of  power  in  the 
knowledge  she  bestowed,  she  was  deliberately  pro 
ceeding  to  enlighten  this  man  in  every  way.  If  her 
death  or  worse  were  at  the  end  of  it,  she  could  no 
more  have  helped  it  than  she  could  have  stayed  the 
rising  of  the  sun,  she  thought,  although  of  course  she 
counted  upon  maintaining  her  control  by  spirit  over 


38  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

the  animal  before  her.  She  had  not  learned  the 
lesson,  apparently,  that  animal  apprehension  and 
spiritual  development  sometimes  grow  side  by  side, 
and  that  unless  the  superiority  of  the  one  is  early 
and  definitely  established,  the  superiority  of  the 
other  will  inevitably  come  about. 

There  was  nothing  else  that  she  discovered  on  her 
tour  about  her  prison  until  she  returned  to  the  cave. 
It  was  afternoon  by  this  time,  and  she  determined  to 
employ  some  of  her  hours  in  a  more  careful  in 
spection  of  it.  Realizing  that  the  lesson  of  the 
night  before,  if  reinforced  and  maintained,  would 
stand  her  in  good  stead,  she  made  the  man  remain 
outside  while  she  went  within.  Her  hope  was  to 
establish  in  his  mind  a  custom  of  avoidance  of  that 
recess  which  should  develop  into  a  fixed  habit,  else 
she  could  not  be  free.  She  could  always  secure  a 
few  moments  respite  from  his  presence,  at  least  she 
had  done  so  heretofore,  but  she  did  not  dare  to  try 
how  he  would  sustain  longer  absences;  hence  the 
necessity  for  establishing  herself  in  the  cave  as  a 
harbor  of  refuge,  a  sanctuary. 

At  first  glance  there  was  nothing  within  the  lit 
tle  apartment,  washed  out  ages  ago  from  the  hard 
stone  by  what  action  of  water  she  could  well  imagine, 
but  as  she  scrutinized  it  closely,  she  noticed  in  a 
recess  a  part  where  the  rock  wall  cropped  out  in 
a  sort  of  low  shelf.  On  the  shelf — wonder  of 
wonders ! — lay  a  book !  Next  to  humanity,  a  book, 


The  Island  39 

she  thought,  would  be  the  most  precious  sharer  of 
her  solitude. 

It  was  a  small,  leather-bound  volume.  Dust  in 
the  form  of  tiny  particles  of  sand  lay  thick  upon  it. 
The  cave  was  sheltered  from  the  prevailing  winds, 
else  it  might  have  been  buried,  but  under  the  cir 
cumstances,  it  might  have  lain  there  for  ages  and  in 
that  dry,  pure  air  have  suffered  no  deterioration  or 
decay. 

Crusoe  was  petrified  when  he  saw  the  footprint  in 
the  sand.  The  woman  was  not  less  startled  or  less 
amazed  when  she  saw  the  book  on  the  rock.  With 
a  little  cry  of  delight  she  stepped  toward  it,  bent 
down,  lifted  it  up,  handling  it  carefully  in  spite  of 
nervous  exultation,  shook  the  dust  from  it,  and 
opened  it.  She  instantly  let  it  fall  from  her  hands 
with  a  look  of  disappointment  and  disgust.  One 
glance  was  enough.  The  book  was  the  Bible.  She 
had  no  interest  in  the  Bible,  a  collection  of  ancient 
genealogies  and  time-worn  fables,  myths  for  the 
credulous  and  impossible  legends,  mixed  up  with 
poetry  whose  inspiration  was  trivial,  and  history 
whose  details  were  false.  For  this  woman,  who 
had  forgotten  how  to  pray  and  who  had  abolished 
God,  had  little  use  for  the  Book  of  Books.  Rather 
any  other  printed  page,  she  had  thought  bitterly, 
than  that  one. 

She  had  acted  upon  impulse,  not  in  her  disdain  of 
the  Bible  and  that  for  which  it  stood — that  was 


40  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

grounded  upon  reason  and  philosophy,  she  fondly 
believed — but  in  her  action  in  casting  it  from  her. 
It  had  no  more  than  rolled  upon  the  sand  at  her 
feet  when,  with  swift  reconsideration,  she  stooped 
and  lifted  it  again.  It  had  occurred  to  her  that 
there  might  be  writing  therein  and  that  the  writing 
might  give  her  a  clew  to  the  mystery  of  the  man. 
She  knew  that  births  and  deaths  were  frequently 
entered  upon  the  blank  leaves  interposed  between 
the  Old  and  New  Testaments.  Unfamiliar  though 
she  was  with  the  contents  of  the  book,  she  easily 
found  the  place  and  eagerly  looked  at  the  leaves. 
Alas,  they  were  blank.  She  turned  to  the  fly  leaves 
at  the  beginning  of  the  book.  There  was  a  name 
written  there  and  in  a  woman's  hand. 
John  Revell  Charnock,"  she  read. 

Below  was  a  date  twenty-five  years  before  the 
moment  of  her  landing. 

John  Revell  Charnock!  It  was  a  strange  name, 
English  in  part,  with  a  suggestion  of  France  in  the 
middle  name.  It  meant  nothing  to  her.  Was  this 
John  Revell  Charnock  who  stood  outside  looking  at 
her?  If  so,  who  was  John  Revell  Charnock?  The 
problem  was  not  greatly  elucidated.  There  was  no 
evidence  that  the  book  belonged  to  the  man  or  the 
man  to  the  book,  or  even  that  the  one  appertained 
remotely  to  the  other.  There  was  a  certain  likeli 
hood,  however,  that  they  had  come  to  the  island 
together. 


The  Island  41 

She  had  been  sure  that  the  man  was  a  white  man. 
She  had  thought  that  he  looked  like  an  American, 
or  an  Englishman,  an  Anglo-Saxon,  and  the  longer 
she  looked  at  him  with  the  Bible  in  her  hand,  the 
more  sure  she  became. 

She  had  been  disappointed  that  the  book  had 
turned  out  to  be  the  Bible,  but  at  least  it  would  serve 
one  useful  purpose.  By  it,  without  the  laborious 
effort  involved  in  making  letters  upon  the  sand,  she 
might  teach  the  man  before  her  to  read.  She  wished 
she  had  had  a  worthier  volume  from  her  point  of 
view  through  which  to  introduce  him  to  the  world's 
literature,  but  she  would  do  the  best  she  could  with 
that.  It  was  pitiful,  as  she  saw  it,  that  with  a  nas 
cent  soul  to  work  with,  she  should  be  compelled  to 
enlighten  it  through  the  medium  of  time-worn  su 
perstition. 

Musing  thus,  she  opened  the  book  again  and  idly 
glanced  at  it.  One  phrase  from  the  printed  page 
caught  her  eye,  and  she  read  these  significant  words. 
"  The  Fool  hath  s*id  in  his  heart  there  is  no  God." 
It  was  a  Psalm  of  David's  she  recognized  from  the 
heading,  a  poet's  dream,  therefore.  Her  idea  of 
a  fool  was  one  who  made  such  confession.  With  a 
gesture  of  contempt  she  closed  the  volume,  not 
throwing  it  away — whatever  it  was,  it  was  a  printed 
book  and  too  precious  to  risk  damage  which  would 
be  irreparable  through  mistreatment — and  looked 
further  in  the  cave. 


42  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

Below  the  shelf,  not  quite  buried  in  the  sand,  there 
was  a  small  metal  box.  She  knelt  down,  scraped  the 
sand  away  and  presently  uncovered  it.  It  appeared 
to  be  of  silver.  It  was  of  such  a  size  that  she  could 
clasp  it  easily  in  her  hand.  She  opened  it  not  with 
out  some  difficulty,  and  found  within  it — nothing! 
Well,  not  exactly  nothing,  but  certainly  that  for 
which  she  could  see  little  value.  There  were  several 
hard  pieces  of  stone  of  a  reddish  color,  chipped  and 
shaped  in  curious  fashion,  and  a  little  bar  of  metal, 
nothing  else.  She  turned  the  box  over  and  examined 
it  on  all  sides.  There  were  initials  upon  it,  a  mono 
gram.  She  rubbed  it  clean  with  her  hands  and  stud 
ied  it  carefully — "  J.  R.  C."  The  book  and  the  box 
had  belonged  to  the  same  person,  John  Revell  Char- 
nock. 

She  laid  the  box  aside  and  searched  the  cave  fur 
ther.  There  was  absolutely  nothing  else  to  be  seen. 
Disappointed  vaguely,  although  she  had  expected 
nothing  and  had  found  more  indeed  than  she  real 
ized  if  she  had  thought  about  it,  she  laid  the  book 
and  box  down  upon  the  ledge  and  went  out  again. 
She  walked  along  the  sands  until  she  came  to  the 
place  where  she  had  landed  the  day  before.  The 
tide  was  low.  She  could  see  the  wreck  of  her  boat, 
partly  on  the  barrier  reef  and  partly  in  the  water. 
It  would  have  been  no  trick  for  her  to  swim  to  it  in 
the  stillness,  yet  she  hesitated  to  attempt  it.  Cer 
tainly  weighted  down  by  all  her  clothing,  it  was  a 


The  Island  43 

matter  of  difficulty  and  inconvenience.  If  it  were 
not  for  this  man  by  her  side !  She  tried  to  think 
of  some  way  to  restrain  him,  keep  him  away,  but 
nothing  occurred  to  her.  Invention  was  paralyzed 
by  the  situation  in  which  she  found  herself. 

Desperately  bidding  him  stay  where  he  was,  she 
went  back  to  the  cave.  She  was  face  to  face  with  a 
crisis  which  had  to  be  met.  Indeed,  the  question  of 
clothes  was  becoming  a  very  serious  one  with  her, 
and  she  knew  she  should  have  to  decide  upon  some 
course  of  action  immediately. 

For  the  present,  she  took  off  her  garments,  hoping 
and  praying  in  a  shiver  of  dread  and  anxiety  that  he 
would  remain  where  she  had  left  him,  which  indeed 
proved  the  fact.  She  laid  aside  all  that  she  had 
worn  except  the  blouse  and  skirt,  including  her  sadly 
worn  shoes  and  stockings.  Thus  lightly  clad  she 
came  out  on  the  sand  again.  He  did  not  notice  any 
change  in  her  condition.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  she 
gave  him  no  time,  for  she  flashed  across  the  sand 
at  full  speed  and  plunged  boldly  into  the  smiling 
water  of  the  lagoon.  He  followed  her  instantly 
and  swam  by  her  side  with  scarcely  any  exertion 
whatever. 

It  was  not  long  before  she  reached  the  barrier 
reef.  It  stood  up  a  foot  or  two  above  the  water 
now,  the  tide  being  low,  and  she  clambered  upon 
it.  The  sharp  rocks  cut  her  naked  and  tender  feet, 
unused  to  such  exertions  and  unfitted  for  such  de- 


44  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

mands,  but  she  persevered.  The  boat  had  been 
beaten  to  pieces.  It  had  been  forced  over  the  reef 
by  the  hurl  of  the  sea.  The  stern  had  been  wedged 
in  between  some  projecting  rocks.  The  rest  of  it  had 
been  torn  away  and  had  fallen  into  the  lagoon. 
There  was  no  wind,  the  sea  was  unruffled.  She  could 
see  as  if  through  a  glass  the  wrecked  remains  of 
the  boat.  There  was  nothing  in  it  except  the  bat 
tered  motor,  useless  for  days  before  she  landed  since 
her  supply  of  gasoline  had  been  exhausted.  Every- 
thing  else  had  been  washed  out  of  it  and  carried  into 
the  deeper  recesses  of  the  lagoon,  where  they  were 
inaccessible  to  the  human  vision. 

Stop !  Under  what  remained  of  a  piece  of  thwart, 
she  caught  a  little  gleam  of  metal.  Calculating  the 
distance  nicely,  she  plunged  in  and  dove.  Keeping 
her  eyes  open,  she  easily  found  the  piece  of  metal, 
dislodged  it  from  the  place  where  it  had  fallen  and 
came  to  the  surface  with  it.  It  was  a  sailor's  sheath 
knife  with  a  bit  of  lanyard  fastened  to  it.  She  had 
had  a  fancy  to  wear  it  in  her  sailor's  blouse  and  she 
had  missed  it  since  she  had  come  ashore. 

But  there  was  nothing  else  in  the  boat,  not  a  thing; 
nothing  on  the  barrier  reef.  She  tried  to  pull  the 
stern  away  where  it  had  been  wedged,  but  found 
that  impossible.  She  tugged  at  it  valiantly,  but  could 
not  move  it.  In  despair  she  turned  to  the  man  who 
had  watched  silently  as  usual  and  pointed.  He 
seemed  to  understand,  for  he  came  and  with  great 


The  Island  45 

effort  lifted  the  torn  part  of  the  boat  from  the  rocks 
and  laid  it  down  at  her  feet.  She  threw  it  into  the 
water,  where  of  course  as  it  was  wood,  it  floated 
easily.  Then  with  a  nod  to  him,  she  plunged  in  and 
together  they  guided  it  to  the  shore,  he  taking  his 
cue  from  her  action. 

She  had  a  fancy  to  test  his  strength,  and  she 
managed  to  convey  to  him  by  signs,  mainly  by  try 
ing  herself  in  vain  to  pull  it  apart,  what  she  wished 
him  to  do.  The  impossible  to  her  was  child's  play 
to  him,  and  in  a  moment  the  several  pieces  of  the 
boat  which  made  up  the  stern  were  scattered  on  the 
beach.  There  was  one  straight  piece  which  went 
across  the  stern  of  the  boat  and  made  a  little  box 
for  the  coxswain  to  sit  in,  which  would  do  for  a 
shovel.  It  was  too  wide,  but  she  broke  it  against 
a  big  stone  and  was  possessed  of  what  she  wanted. 
The  ends  were  rough  and  serrated  and  unfit  for  her 
hands,  but  these  she  smoothed  by  the  aid  of  her 
knife.  She  sharpened  the  other  end  and  soon  had  a 
rude  semblance  of  a  shovel.  She  intended  to  use 
that  on  the  boat  on  the  sand  the  next  day. 

Finished  with  this,  she  looked  at  the  man  and 
sighed  in  despair.  Could  she  ever  get  rid  of  him. 
Instantly  there  flashed  into  her  mind  that  which 
she  had  before  overlooked  as  of  no  moment.  A 
long  heavy  boat  rope,  the  boat's  painter,  she  had 
noticed  when  she  dove,  lay  floating  by  the  side  of 
the  boat  from  which  it  had  not  been  severed.  An 


46  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

idea  came  to  her.  Dropping  the  shovel  and  fol 
lowed  by  her  satellite,  she  plunged  in  once  more  and 
again  swam  to  the  boat.  Wasting  no  time,  she 
dove  as  before,  found  the  rope  and,  having  pre 
viously  opened  her  knife,  cut  it  quickly  and  came  to 
the  surface  gasping. 

There  were  perhaps  fifteen  or  twenty  feet  of  line. 
It  was  a  stout  piece  of  rope,  of  unusual  quality,  as 
had  been  everything  on  board  the  yacht.  The  very 
best  of  stuff  had  gone  into  it  and  she  did  not  be 
lieve  any  man  on  earth  could  break  it.  She  had 
amused  herself  on  the  cruise  by  learning  the  rudi 
ments  of  seamanship,  and  she  could  tie  knots  like 
any  sailor.  This  little  accomplishment  was  to  stand 
her  in  good  stead.  She  wrapped  the  rope  around 
her  neck,  plunged  in  the  lagoon  for  the  third  time 
and  swam  once  more  to  the  shore. 

She  led  the  way  up  the  sands  to  the  palm  grove. 
Then  she  tied  the  rope  around  the  man's  neck,  not 
in  a  slip  noose,  of  course,  but  in  a  hard  circle,  and 
quickly  made  a  running  bowline  around  the  nearest 
tree.  He  had  not  made  the  slightest  resistance. 
He  had  no  idea  evidently  of  what  she  was  doing 
or  the  purport  of  her  motions.  Then  she  turned 
and  went  away  from  him  quickly.  He  started  for 
her  at  once  and  was  nearly  jerked  from  his  feet  by 
the  tautening  of  the  rope.  It  was  a  new  situation 
for  him,  yet  his  hands  instinctively  went  to  his 
throat  and  he  strove  to  tear  away  the  noose,  put- 


The  Island  47 

ting  forth  such  a  prodigious  amount  of  strength  that 
she  stood  in  horror  lest  he  should  part  the  lashing. 
But  it  was  made  of  stout  stuff  and  he  had  no 
purchase;  although  he  pulled  until  the  sweat  stood 
out  on  his  forehead  from  the  violence  of  his  ef 
forts,  they  were  of  no  avail.  She  had  not  dared  to 
interfere  or  to  say  a  word,  but  when  she  saw  his 
efforts  slacken,  she  pointed  to  the  sands  to  indicate 
to  him  that  he  was  to  sit  down,  and  then  she  went 
away  conscious  that  while  the  rope  held  she  was 
free.  She  was  conscious  of  another  thing,  too,  and 
that  was  that  he  was  learning  a  sad  and  bitter  lesson 
of  physical  restraint,  to  which  he  had  evidently  never 
before  been  subject. 

The  look  in  his  eyes — and  she  had  learned  to 
estimate  with  a  reasonable  degree  of  accuracy  what 
was  going  on  behind  his  brows — was  one  of  in 
tense  and  utter  bewilderment.  Whether  to  it  would 
succeed  the  natural  anger  consequent  upon  restraint 
the  cause  for  which  is  unrealized,  and  sometimes 
when  it  is  realized  as  well,  she  could  not  tell.  At 
any  rate,  she  was  free.  She  did  not  believe  that 
he  could  by  an  possibility  release  himself.  His  hands 
were  free,  but  she  knew  that  he  could  have  no  ex 
perience  in  the  untying  of  knots  and  he  could  bring 
nothing  to  aid  him  except  brute  strength,  which  had 
already  proved  inefficacious. 

She  had  rejoiced  in  his  companionship,  of  course. 
It  had  given  her  something  to  do,  her  mind  some- 


48  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

thing  to  work  upon,  and  would  do  more  in  the  fu 
ture,  but  she  never  enjoyed  a  moment's  freedom 
more.  She  ran  to  the  little  amphitheater  formed  by 
the  cliffs  where  the  cave  was  and,  throwing  aside 
her  blouse  and  skirt,  she  luxuriated  in  a  bath  in 
the  fresh,  cool,  delightful  waters  of  the  pool  at 
the  base  of  the  fall.  There  was  a  certain  amount 
of  apprehension,  for,  of  course,  he  might  break  his 
tether  at  any  time,  but  she  was  sufficiently  confident 
not  to  let  this  take  away  the  pleasure  she  felt  in  the 
bath  of  fresh  water  after  the  long  experience  with 
the  salt  seas.  If  she  had  had  a  cake  of  soap,  she 
would  have  been  completely  happy. 

She  had  much  to  do  and  she  could  not  linger. 
For  one  thing,  she  had  to  face  the  problem  of 
clothes.  She  had  absolutely  nothing  when  she  landed 
except  what  she  wore.  Besides  the  usual  underwears, 
these  consisted  of  her  blue  serge  blouse  and  skirt 
— a  short  skirt  at  that — and  a  silk  petticoat.  She 
left  the  blouse  and  skirt  outside  on  the  rocks  where 
they  would  soon  dry  in  the  sun.  They  had  been 
wetted  so  often  that  there  was  no  possibility  of  their 
shrinking  further.  Then  she  took  stock  of  the  rest. 
With  needles  and  thread,  of  which  she  possessed 
some  store  in  the  housewife  which  had  been  saved 
from  the  bag,  she  thought  she  could  make  shift  to 
manufacture  three  or  four  garments,  open  at  the 
neck,  without  sleeves,  and  with  skirts  that  came  to 
the  knee,  garments  just  sufficient  for  modesty.  There 


The  Island  49 

was  no  other  need  for  clothes,  so  far  as  that  went, 
in  that  balmy  island. 

Naturally  she  shrank  from  this,  but  unless  she 
resorted  to  this  expedient,  her  clothes  would  wear 
out  all  at  once.  Indeed  they  were  in  none  too  good 
a  condition  as  it  was,  and  when  they  were  worn  out 
she  would  have  nothing.  She  would  not  have  hesi 
tated  a  moment  had  it  not  been  for  the  man,  but 
man  or  not,  the  decision  in  her  mind  was  one  to 
which  she  must  come. 

Unlike  most  overeducated  women,  she  was  still 
expert  with  her  needle,  and  as  her  garments  were  to 
be  of  the  simplest,  she  had  not  much  difficulty  in 
making  over  her  silk  skirt  in  the  way  she  fancied. 
Belted  in  at  the  waist,  it  would  do.  She  would  use 
the  rope  that  bound  the  man  for  that  purpose,  keep 
ing  it  always  about  her.  She  had,  of  course,  but  one 
pair  of  stockings  and  one  pair  of  light  canvas  boat 
ing  shoes  which  were  almost  cut  to  pieces.  She 
would  have  to  go  barefoot. 

Putting  her  blue  serge  dress  and  the  rest  of  her 
clothing  carefully  away,  including  her  shoes  and 
stockings,  she  stepped  out  on  the  sands,  bare  armed, 
bare  footed,  a  gleaming  figure  like  to  an  Olympian 
goddess.  She  was  a  woman  naturally  dark  in  com 
plexion,  and  while  the  sun  would  probably  burn  her 
cruelly  and  turn  her  young  flesh,  never  before  ex 
posed  to  its  intensity,  darker,  she  would  not  grow 
red  or  blister.  She  was  thankful  for  that  with  un- 


50  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

conscious  femininity.  At  any  rate,  she  must  get 
used  to  going  out  in  the  sun  without  a  hat,  too. 
People,  natives  who  were  born  and  lived  in  this  lati 
tude,  did  become  accustomed  to  such  things,  she 
knew,  so  undoubtedly  could  she. 

With  these  thoughts,  she  stepped  around  the  head 
land  and  walked  across  the  beach  toward  the  palm 
tree  where  she  could  see  in  the  fading  light  ot  the 
late  afternoon  her  prisoner  was  still  tied. 

Modesty  is  a  negative  term.  That  which  is  in 
decent  exposure  in  a  ballroom  is  the  height  of  con 
vention  on  a  sea  shore,  and  vice  versa.  Certainly  this 
man  had  no  concept  of  such  a  quality.  He  had  not 
noticed  before  when  she  had  come  out  barefoot  to 
swim  to  the  barrier  reef,  and  yet  somehow  she  fancied 
as  he  stared  at  her  approaching  that  this  time  he 
marked  the  difference.  And  a  slow,  fiery  blush  flamed 
over  her  from  her  bare  feet  to  her  bare  head,  extend 
ing  along  her  bare  arms.  She  stopped  under  the  per 
suasion  of  impulse  to  turn  and  go  back  to  the  cave 
and  resume  her  clothing,  at  least  so  long  as  it  might 
last.  But  she  was  a  woman  of  strong  will.  She 
reasoned  that  all  the  emotions  to  which  she  was 
subject  were  in  her  own  bosom;  that  the  man  before 
her  neither  knew  nor  cared  as  to  the  things  which 
vexed  her.  So  she  went  on. 

She  had  in  her  hand  the  sailor's  knife,  with  the 
blade  open.  She  could  not  tell  exactly  in  what  mood 
her  prisoner  might  be.  Indeed,  she  approached  him 


The  Island  51 

with  a  certain  terror,  accounted  for  partly  by  the 
situation  and  partly  by  the  fact  that  in  making  this 
change  in  her  garments  she  had,  as  It  were,  cut  her 
self  off  from  civilization  and  brought  herself  in 
some  degree  at  least  nearer  his  physical  level.  But 
she  could  not  leave  him  there  all  night.  Summoning 
her  courage,  therefore,  and  with  a  bold  front  be 
fore  him,  she  advanced  to  the  tree  and  untied  the 
rope  from  the  trunk  and  untied  it  from  his  neck  as 
well.  He  stood  silent,  unresisting,  through  it  all, 
a  rather  pitiful  figure,  she  thought  at  first,  until  he 
was  freed  from  the  degrading  halter. 

Then  she  waited  in  intense  and  eager  curiosity  as 
to  what  he  should  do  next.  The  iron  of  his  situa 
tion  had  eaten  into  his  soul.  He  had  been  mastered 
by  force.  He  could  not  understand  it.  He  did  not 
love  the  mastery.  Still  without  the  knowledge  of 
his  own  powers,  there  occurred  to  him  no  way  to 
resent  the  ignominy  to  which  he  had  been  subjected. 
He  turned  and  walked  away  from  her.  She  stood 
amazed,  staring  after  him.  It  was  the  first  time  he 
had  withdrawn  himself  from  her  presence.  Where 
was  he  going?  Was  this  a  declaration  of  war? 
Was  there  to  be  enmity  between  them?  In  vague 
terror,  moved  by  a  sudden  impulse  again,  she  called 
him. 

"Man!"   she  said. 

He  stopped,  hesitated,  looked  back,  turned  and 
went  on  again.  He  was  deeply  hurt.  She  could 


52  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

not  see  him  go.  It  was  unthinkable  that  he  should 
go.  He  was  dangerous  away  from  her.  By  her  side 
she  could  control  him. 

"Man!"  she  called  again. 

But  this  time  he  did  not  heed.  An  idea  sprang  to 
her  brain,  working  quickly  under  the  pressure.  She 
lifted  up  her  voice,  for  he  was  far  from  her  now  and 
plodding  steadily,  doggedly  toward  the  trees. 

"John!"  she  cried.     "John  Revell  Charnock!" 

And  at  that  sound  the  man  stopped.  He  turned 
and  looked  at  her  again. 

"  John !  "  she  repeated.     "  John !  " 

She  approached  him.  As  she  did  so  and  when 
she  could  get  near  enough  to  him,  she  observed  that 
wrinkling  of  the  brow,  that  look  of  amazement 
which  she  had  noticed  before.  It  was  as  if  some 
latent  memory,  some  recollection  of  the  past,  were 
struggling  against  the  obscurity  of  years,  as  if  some 
thing  were  endeavoring  to  thrust  itself  through  a  sea 
of  oblivion  and  forgetfulness  that  overwhelmed  his 
mind,  as  if  she  were  a  voice  which  brought  back 
things  he  could  neither  understand  nor  utter,  and  yet 
which  meant  something  to  him. 

"  John !  "  she  cried  again,  coming  nearer  to  him. 

She  thrust  out  her  hand ;  she  touched  him.  Again 
she  noticed  that  strange  emotion  consequent  upon 
her  touch.  She  laid  her  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 
There  was  amity,  confidence,  reassurance.  She 
patted  him  as  she  might  a  dog. 


The  Island  53 

"  John !  "  she  said,  and  then  she  turned  away  and 
walked  toward  the  shore. 

Obediently  he  followed  her.  She  thrust  the  knife 
between  her  waist  and  the  rope  which  she  had  rapidly 
twisted  about  her  middle  and  walked  on  in  triumph. 
If  he  had  learned  something,  so  had  she.  Someone 
else  had  called  this  man  John  in  days  gone  by.  The 
sound  was  not  unfamiliar  to  him.  He  answered  to 
his  name.  That  was  he,  John  Revell  Charnock! 
She  felt  as  if  she  were  entering  upon  the  solution  of 
the  mystery  of  his  presence.  Perhaps  the  morrow 
would  tell.  She  would  examine  that  boat  and  those 
decaying  evidences  of  humanity  on  the  farther  shore. 

She  felt  elated  that  night  ere  she  went  to  sleep  in 
the  cave.  The  clew  to  the  mystery,  she  fancied,  was 
in  her  hand.  She  had  such  occupation  before  her 
as  she  had  never  hoped  to  come  upon  in  a  desert 
island,  at  least.  The  rope  added  to  her  security. 
By  piling  stones  before  the  entrance  to  the  cave 
and  reinforcing  them  with  the  boards  from  the  wreck 
of  the  boat  and  some  fallen  tree  branches  on  the 
shore,  she  made  a  sort  of  a  barrier  to  it,  not  a  bar 
rier  that  would  have  kept  out  of  the  cave  anyone 
who  desired  to  enter,  but  one  which  would  have  to 
be  removed  before  one  could  enter.  And  she  so  ar 
ranged  matters,  tying  the  end  of  the  rope  to  her 
wrist,  that  any  attempt  to  remove  it  would  im 
mediately  waken  her.  That  night  she  slept  secure 
and  unmolested. 


CHAPTER   IV 

LESSON  AND  LABOR 

THE  task  to  which  she  set  herself  in  the  morning 
would  have  been  an  impossible  one  to  many  women, 
and  indeed  it  was  a  hard  one  to  her.  The  buried 
boat  lay  in  the  sand  some  rods  distant  from  the 
nearest  tree.  There  was  absolutely,  no  shelter  from 
the  fierce  heat  of  the  tropic  sun.  She  was  not  yet 
fully  accustomed  to  it,  and,  indeed,  perhaps  she 
never  would  be  able  to  endure  it  without  some  sort 
of  a  head  covering.  She  improvised  a  bonnet  from 
the  leaf  of  a  low  springing  palm  tree,  which  with 
her  remaining  handkerchief  she  tied  about  her  head. 
And  then  with  her  watchful  friend  by  her  side  she 
descended  the  beach  to  the  boat  and  began  to  dig. 

It  was  hard  and  very  tedious  work.  With  the 
flat  make-shift  shovel  in  the  shape  of  a  rough  piece 
of  board  it  was  almost  impossible  to  lift  the  sand. 
Yet  she  attacked  the  task  resolutely,  and  persevered 
sturdily  for  a  long  time  until  the  sweat  beaded  her 
forehead;  her  back  ached;  her  hands,  unused  to 
manual  toil  of  any  kind,  were  almost  blistered.  She 
realized  at  last  that  she  would  have  to  give  it  over. 

She  wondered  as  she  ceased  her  labors  whether 
the  constant  observation  which  the  man  had  sub- 

54 


The  Island  55 

jected  her  to  would  enable  him  to  continue  the  work. 
As  an  experiment  she  handed  him  the  shovel,  stepped 
out  of  the  excavation  she  had  made,  and  pointed  to 
ward  it.  He  understood  instantly.  She  was  sur 
prised  at  the  unusual  quickness  of  his  apprehension, 
for  he  set  to  work  with  a  right  good  will  and  in  a 
minute  the  sand  was  flying.  She  noticed,  half  in 
envy,  how  much  more  progress  he  made  than  she 
could  effect.  What  was  labor  for  her  was  play  for 
him,  and  yet  after  a  little  space  he  stopped,  threw 
down  the  shovel  and  looked  at  her. 

She  had  got  in  the  habit  of  speaking  to  him  as 
if  he  understood,  so  she  pointed  to  the  shovel  again, 
exclaiming : 

"  Pick  it  up  and  go  on." 

Her  meaning  was  obvious  to  him  if  her  language 
was  not.  It  equally  was  evident  to  her  that  he  had 
no  desire  whatever  to  proceed  with  his  task,  but  he 
was  still  under  the  constraint  of  her  superior  person 
ality,  and  presently  he  did  as  she  bade  him.  It 
amused  her  to  reflect  that  in  addition  to  all  the  other 
lessons,  so  remarkable  as  almost  to  make  his  brain 
reel  and  whirl,  he  was  now  learning  the  lesson  of 
toil.  If  she  could  only  keep  abreast  of  these  great 
abstract  concepts  she  was  putting  into  his  being  by 
giving  him  some  mental  realization  of  them,  so  that 
the  spiritual  development  would  keep  pace  with  the 
practical,  she  would  be  thoroughly  satisfied  with 
her  educational  processes. 


'56  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

She  mused  on  the  problem  as  he  labored  silently 
and  vigorously.  He  stopped  once  or  twice,  but  she 
kept  him  to  it,  a  feat  vastly  greater  than  she  real 
ized,  until  the  interior  of  the  boat,  which  was  a  small 
ship's  boat,  a  dinghy,  had  been  entirely  cleared  out. 
She  had  watched  carefully  every  spadeful  of  sand 
which  had  been  tossed  over  the  buried  gunwales,  and 
now  she  searched  eagerly  the  boat  itself.  Her  in 
spection  revealed  nothing.  There  were  lockers  at 
either  end.  These  she  opened,  finding  nothing 
therein  but  mouldering  remains  of  cloth,  bags  of 
some  sort  which  she  surmised  might  have  contained 
ship's  bread,  and  a  little  barrel  or  keg,  which  had 
probably  carried  water  for  the  voyagers. 

The  boat  was  in  an  excellent  state  of  preservation. 
There  was  even  a  pair  of  oars  lying  on  the  thwarts. 
If  she  could  have  dug  it  out  of  the  sand  entirely,  she 
fancied  she  could  have  launched  it  and  used  it.  But 
such  a  task  was  utterly  beyond  her.  Besides,  there 
would  have  been  no  gain  in  having  the  boat  afloat. 
She  would  not  dare  to  take  it  out  beyond  the  barrier 
reef,  and  there  was  nothing  to  row  for  in  the  lagoon. 

She  easily  broke  the  rotting  lines  with  which  the 
oars  were  secured  and  took  them  out.  They  would 
be  useful  perhaps  in  some  way.  And  then  after  a 
long  look  at  the  boat,  and  with  a  feeling  that  her 
labor  had  been  mainly  wasted,  she  was  about  to  turn 
away  when  the  thought  struck  her  that  sometimes 
boats  carried  the  names  of  the  ships  to  which  they 


The  Island  57 

belonged  on  their  bows  or  across  their  sterns.  She 
had  recourse  to  the  shovel  once  more,  and  after 
some  deliberation  essayed  the  stern  of  the  boat. 

It  was  not  so  hard  to  shovel  the  sand  away  from 
it,  and  here  she  did  make  a  discovery,  for  although 
the  letters  had  been  almost  obliterated  by  the  action 
of  the  sand,  she  could  still  make  them  out.  After 
some  study  she  decided  that  the  name  of  the  boat, 
or  of  the  ship  to  which  it  had  belonged,  had  been 
Nansemond,  of  Norfolk,  Virginia.  That  was  the 
net  result  of  the  hard  labors  of  a  long  morning.  It 
told  her  something,  but  not  much.  Assuming  that 
the  man  with  her  was  John  Revell  Charnock,  and 
assuming  that  he  had  come  to  the  island  in  the  past 
on  that  boat,  it  indicated  that  he  was  at  least  an 
American  and  a  Virginian.  It  identified  him,  if  her 
suppositions  were  correct,  and  whether  there  was 
warrant  for  them  or  not,  instinctively  and  naturally 
she  concluded  that  she  was  right. 

Admitting  all  this,  however,  it  gave  her  no  other 
clew  from  which  to  deduce  a  history.  The  testimony 
of  the  boat  was  interesting,  that  was  all.  Her  first 
thought  was  to  leave  it  all  where  it  was,  but  her  sec 
ond  thought  was  better.  With  the  aid  of  the  stout 
piece  of  board  which  had  served  her  for  a  shovel, 
she  hammered  away  at  the  stern-piece  until  she 
broke  it  off.  She  saw  now  that  the  boat  must  have 
lain  there  in  the  sancl  for  many  years,  for  the  wood 
was  brittle  and  the  fastenings  largely  destroyed,  fot 


58  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

the  stern-piece  came  easily  away.  She  laid  it  aside 
for  a  moment,  intending  to  preserve  it  with  the  Bible. 
Heaven  knows  what  dream  of  future  usefulness  in 
the  way  of  evidence  establishing  identity  these  might 
be  entered  her  mind. 

Then  she  threw  herself  down  under  the  trees  and 
rested.  She  had  left  her  watch,  her  precious  watch, 
back  in  the  cave  with  the  book.  She  did  not  dare  to 
carry  it  around  with  her.  She  had  no  way  of  carry 
ing  it  in  the  thin  single  garment  which  she  wore,  but 
she  judged  from  the  height  of  the  sun  that  it  must 
be  noontime.  They  made  their  meal  off  the  fruits 
of  the  island,  this  time  with  a  rich  and  juicy  cocoanut 
added,  which  the  man  got  for  her  at  her  suggestion. 
in  the  sign  language  at  which  she  was  becoming  ex 
pert,  by  climbing  with  wonderful  agility,  apelike 
agility  almost,  one  of  the  tall  cocoanut  palms  with 
which  the  island  abounded.  There  were  fruits  of 
various  sorts  in  great  plenty  on  the  island,  and  she 
was  becoming  accustomed  to  the  diet  by  degrees. 

She  passed  the  noon  hour  in  trying  to  add  to  the 
mental  equipment  of  her  companion.  He  could  say 
a  number  of  words  now  and  had  some  idea  "of  their 
meaning,  although  he  had  not  yet  attempted  to 
frame  sentences,  nor  had  she  yet  tried  to  teach  him 
so  to  do.  It  was  pleasant  under  the  shade  of  the 
trees.  She  found  herself  marveling  at  times  as  to 
the  contentment  that  possessed  her,  a  product  of  the 
civilization  of  the  very  end  of  the  age  suddenly 


The  Island  59 

plunged  into  this  Edenlike  existence  which  her  fore 
bears  might  have  enjoyed  ten  thousand  years  before. 

The  hours  ran  on  until  the  declining  sun  and  the 
coolness  that  came  with  the  late  afternoon  warned 
her  that  if  she  were  to  continue  her  explorations,  she 
must  be  about  it  immediately.  So  she  rose  and, 
nerving  herself  to  her  task,  went  toward  the  coppice 
where  lay  the  ghastly  remains  of  what  had  been  a 
human  being.  Forcing  herself  to  the  duty,  with  her 
knife  she  carefully  cut  away  the  rushes,  being  par 
ticular  not  to  disturb  the  bones  of  the  skeletons. 
As  before,  she  did  all  this  in  the  face  of  a  vigorous 
remonstrance  from  the  man.  In  some  way,  she 
could  not  tell  how,  the  place  was  horrible  to  him. 
He  would  never  have  come  near  it  evidently  of  his 
own  will,  and  although  the  power  of  memory  in 
him  was  but  latent,  the  impression  that  had  been 
produced  upon  him  by  what  she  found  there  at  some 
period  in  his  life  was  strong  enough  to  make  him 
avoid  it  forever. 

She  did  not  ask  him  for  any  assistance;  indeed,  she 
would  not  have  trusted  him  with  the  knife  under 
any  circumstances,  and  he  made  no  attempt  to  keep 
close  to  her.  He  stood  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
coppice  in  a  great  state  of  excitement,  uttering 
without  sequence  or  reason,  such  words  as  she  had 
taught  him.  To  him,  in  this  instance,  she  gave  no 
heed. 

Presently  she  had  completely  uncovered  the  two 


60  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

skeletons.  She  had  studied  anatomy,  but  was  not  a 
specialist  in  that  department  of  human  learning. 
She  thought  that  the  skeleton  before  her  was  that  of 
a  woman.  She  measured  its  length  with  a  piece  of 
tall  grass  and  compared  it  with  her  own.  They 
were  both  of  a  size.  The  soil  on  which  the  bones 
lay  was  soft  and  porous.  Every  vestige  of  clothing 
had  long  since  rotted  away  and  disappeared  with 
the  flesh  it  covered.  If  the  person  whose  bones  lay 
there  had  worn  any  articles  of  gold  or  silver  which, 
being  rustless,  would  have  survived  the  long  ex 
posure,  they  were  probably  buried  in  the  earth  be 
neath  the  bones.  She  would  attend  to  that  later. 

Then  she  looked  toward  the  bones  at  the  feet  of 
the  human  remains  and  decided  at  last  that  they 
were  the  bones  of  a  dog.  Across  the  vertebrae  lay  a 
piece  of  metal.  She  picked  it  up,  recognizing  it  in 
stantly  as  a  plate  which  had  probably  belonged  to  a 
dog-collar.  There  was  an  inscription  on  it  which 
she  did  not  take  the  trouble  at  the  moment  to  read. 
Slipping  it  into  the  bosom  of  her  tunic,  and  making 
sure  that  the  confining  rope  would  keep  it  from  fall 
ing  out,  she  stooped  down  and  gathered  the  bones 
of  the  human  being  up  in  her  arms,  repulsive  as  the 
task  was,  and  carried  them  down  to  the  boat  on  the 
beach.  She  laid  them  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat 
carefully,  and  then,  moved  by  a  sudden  impulse,  she 
went  back  and  gathered  up  those  of  the  dog,  which 
she  put  in  the  boat  also.  It  was  an  easy  matter  to 


The  Island  61 

tumble  a  few  spadefuls  of  sand  over  the  bones. 
Then  she  left  them  in  that  rude  Viking  sepulture, 
knowing  that  time  would  soon  refill  the  empty 
dinghy,  and  the  bones  would  be  safely  buried  unless 
some  other  investigator  should  uncover  them. 

The  man  had  assisted  her  in  no  way  in  this  pro 
cess,  but  his  excitement  was  very  great.  While  she 
stood  looking  down  at  the  little  heap  of  sand  which 
covered  all  that  remained  of  this  forlorn  and  for 
gotten  visitor  to  this  island,  wondering  if  the  fate  of 
that  trespasser  upon  these  silent  shores  would  some 
day  be  hers,  the  man  suddenly  dropped  on  his  knees, 
as  she  had  seen  him  do  on  her  first  night  on  the 
island.  He  put  his  hands  together  and  began  that 
mumbled  jargon  which  she  had  not  been  able  to 
understand,  but  which  had  seemed  to  her  more  like 
language  than  anything  to  which  he  had  given  vent. 
She  was  surprised  beyond  measure,  yet  she  listened 
with  every  faculty  on  the  alert,  if  possible  to  com 
prehend  what  he  might  be  saying,  and  presently  a 
familiar  sound  or  two  flashed  into  her  mind  that  he 
was  making  use  of  a  prayer  which  she  herself  had 
used  in  childhood;  that,  absurd,  fantastic,  impossible 
though  the  conclusion  was,  he  was  saying  the  child 
ish  petition : 

"  Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep !  " 

The  first  impulse  of  the  woman  was  to  laugh. 
The  next  impulse  was  to  take  off  the  palm  leaf  hat 
and  stand  with  bowed  head  and  clasped  hands. 


62  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

What  marvelous  miracle  was  this  that  throughout 
the  years  which  she  could  no  longer  doubt  this  man 
had  been  alone  on  the  island,  there  had  survived  the 
one  childish  habit  of  prayer,  and  that  the  one  vestige 
of  language  which  had  remained  to  him  was  the 
language  of  petition.  She  did  not  believe  in  it,  of 
course.  It  was  absurd  to  her,  but  it  was  none  the 
less  wonderful.  It  filled  her  with  a  certain  awe.  It 
was  as  if  some  power  had  maintained  a  hold  upon 
the  consciousness  of  this  man  in  this  way.  What 
power  ? 

"  Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep !  "  How  long  it 
had  been  since  she  had  said  that!  She  believed 
nothing,  she  cared  for  nothing,  but  the  woman  hid 
her  face  in  her  hands  for  a  moment.  She  clenched 
her  teeth  and  forced  out  of  her  mind  that  which  at 
that  moment  was  striving  for  birth.  She  was  to 
teach  this  man  everything.  She  was  to  make  him 
know  life  and  history.  She  was  to  bring  him  in 
touch  with  all  the  glories  of  to-day,  and  she  recog 
nized  in  that  hour,  although  she  did  not  and  could 
not  admit  it,  that  perhaps  he  might  teach  her  some 
thing  as  well,  something  that  she  had  not  known,  or 
something  that  she  had  forgotten,  without  the 
knowledge  of  which  all  her  science  was  a  vain,  a 
foolish,  a  futile  thing. 

As  she  stood  there  with  these  thoughts  running 
through  her  mind,  there  came  back  to  her  recollec 
tion  those  words  of  Scripture  which  she  had  read 


The  Island  63 

with  such  disdain  last  night,  "  The  fool  hath  said  in 
his  heart  there  is  no  God"  Was  the  poet  right? 
Had  there  been  vouchsafed  to  him  revelations 
greater  than  those  revealed  to  the  microscope  of  the 
.scientist,  the  scalpel  of  the  anatomist,  the  telescope 
of  the  astronomer,  the  pure  reason  of  the  philos 
opher.  Was  she  a  fool?  Nonsense 

The  little  prayer  was  ended.  The  man  rose  to  his 
feet.  She  took  her  spade  and  went  back  to  the 
place  where  the  bodies  had  lain,  and  there  began 
carefully  to  scrape  away  the  earth,  examining 
scrupulously  every  shovelful  ere  she  threw  it  aside. 
In  one  place,  where  the  hands  had  rested,  she  re 
membered,  her  labors  were  rewarded.  She  came 
across  two  rings,  a  diamond  and  a  plain  circlet  of 
gold.  These  she  placed  in  her  tunic  with  the  collar 
and  continued  her  digging. 

It  was  growing  late  and  growing  dark,  but  she 
left  no  square  inch  of  ground  unexplored.  She 
found  nothing  else.  The  rings  belonged  to  a  woman 
evidently.  Her  surmise  in  that  particular  was 
right.  There  were  no  other  metal  parts  of  her 
apparel  left.  The  nails  in  her  shoes,  the  steels  of 
her  corset  had  rusted  away  and  left  no  sign.  There 
was  nothing  remaining  but  the  two  little  baubles 
pressing  against  her  own  warm  flesh. 

So  intent  had  she  been  that  the  sun  had  gone  down 
before  she  ceased,  and  upon  the  island  there  de 
scended  that  quick  and  sudden  night  of  the  tropics. 


64  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

The  wind  had  risen,  the  old  ocean  was  thundering 
on  the  barrier  reef,  and  a  heavy  sea  breeze  was 
shrieking  through  the  trees.  The  sky  on  the  horizon 
was  overclouded,  and  the  clouds  were  rising  rapidly. 
There  would  be  a  storm,  which  was  developing  with 
tropic  rapidity.  Quickly  she  retraced  her  steps 
along  the  sand  toward  the  cave  on  the  other  side,  the 
man  following. 

They  had  progressed  not  more  than  half  the  way 
when  the  storm  burst  upon  them.  Peals  of  thunder 
and  flashes  of  lightning  filled  the  air.  It  was  such  a 
display  of  the  Titanic  forces  of  the  world  as  might 
have  appalled  the  stoutest  heart.  It  filled  the 
woman  with  a  vague  terror.  She  noticed  with  satis 
faction  that  the  man  was  entirely  unmoved  by  the 
terrific  demonstrations  of  nature.  By  the  flashes  of 
lightning  as  they  stumbled  along  in  the  otherwise 
total  blackness,  she  could  see  his  face  serene.  In  a 
moment  of  apprehension  she  caught  his  hand  with 
her  own  and  clung  to  it  tightly.  It  was  the  uncon 
scious  appeal  of  the  physical  weaker  to  the  physical 
stronger.  Her  hand  had  clasped  the  hands  of  her 
fellow  creatures  many  times.  Never  before  had  his 
palm  met  the  palm  of  human  being,  much  less  a 
woman's.  She  could  feel  that  tremor  run  through 
him,  but  by  instinct  as  it  were,  he  met  her  hand 
clasp  with  his  own,  and  together  they  made  their 
way  to  the  cave. 

They  had  scarcely  reached  it  when  the  rain  burst 


The  Island  65 

upon  them.  The  heavens  were  opened,  the  floods 
descended,  they  beat  upon  the  sands  in  fury.  She 
could  not  drive  him  out  there  in  that  flood  for  the 
night.  She  motioned  him  to  come  within  the  en 
trance  of  the  cave,  which  was  sheltered  from  the 
wind  and  which  was  dry  and  still.  She  made  him 
lie  down  near  the  entrance,  and  then  withdrawing 
herself  into  a  recess  at  the  side,  she  disposed  the 
oars  which  he  had  carried  home  on  his  shoulder,  in 
front  of  her,  from  wall  to  wall,  and  lashing  them 
with  the  rope  to  her  person,  made  another  feeble 
barrier,  but  which  would  yet  give  the  alarm  to  her 
and  waken  her  if  it  were  moved.  And  presently  she 
went  to  sleep.  She  was  too  tired  even  to  speculate 
on  her  discoveries,  or  to  piece  them  together;  that 
would  be  occupation  for  the  morning. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE    VOICES     OF    THE     PAST 

IT  rained  hard  during  most  of  the  night.  The 
woman  slept  lightly,  and  whenever  she  woke  she 
could  hear  outside  of  her  sanctuary  the  roar  of  the 
storm.  The  man,  as  usual,  slept  the  long  hours 
through  as  undisturbed  by  the  commotion  as  a  child. 
It  was  apparent  to  her  that  he  had  absolutely  no 
fear.  Whether  this  was  due  to  ignorance  or  tem 
perament  she  could  not  say.  Was  fear,  after  all, 
under  the  conditions  in  which  his  life  had  been  lived, 
a  purely  articificial  quality,  or  was  it  natural  and  in 
herent?  He  had  avoidances,  abhorrences,  antipa 
thies,  as  the  skeletons  in  the  coppice  which  she 
had  buried.  Was  that  avoidance  fear,  or  was  it 
something  else?  Was  it  instinct,  or  did  it  arise 
from  recollection?  She  rather  fancied  the  last.  If 
so,  it  was  evident  that  the  man  had  been  on  the 
island  a  long  time.  It  would  have  taken  years  for 
the  metal  that  must  have  been  about  that  woman's 
person  to  rust  away,  for  the  steel  clasps  of  the  dog's 
collar  entirely  to  disappear. 

Upon  that  faint  memory  that  he  cherished,  upon 
that  prayer  that  he  prayed,  she  could  build  the  foun 
dation  of  his  education.  She  had  been  so  successful 

66 


The  Island  67 

m  training  him  and  in  restraining  him,  in  influenc 
ing  him  and  swaying  him  so  far,  that  she  had  abun 
dant  confidence  in  her  ability  to  do  so  to  the  end. 
It  was  quite  evident  that  life  would  be  easily  support 
able  under  the  conditions  in  which  it  must  be  lived 
on  that  island.  She  need  have  no  physical  concern 
as  to  her  material  well-being  or  comfort,  and  here 
was  mental  occupation  and  stimulus  which  made  her 
for  the  time  being  forget  the  rest  of  the  world. 

Indeed,  she  thought  bitterly,  as  she  lay  awake  dur 
ing  the  long  watches  of  the  night,  that  the  rest  of 
the  world  was  nothing  to  her  and  that  she  hated  it. 
She  therefore  not  only  was  becoming  resigned  to  her 
situation,  but  was  rejoicing  in  it.  She  would  teach 
this  man  all  she  knew.  She  would  teach  him  to 
think,  to  reflect,  to  reason.  She  would  teach  him 
to  talk.  Since  she  had  a  book,  albeit  a  sorry  one, 
she  would  teach  him  to  read. 

It  was  evident  that  the  island  was  an  unknown  one. 
At  least  no  one  could  have  landed  upon  it  from  any 
passing  ship  since  this  man  had  come  there.  No  one 
could  have  sailed  near  enough  to  it  to  have  espied 
him.  She  remembered  that  on  the  yacht  she  had 
sought  for  lonely  and  unfrequented  seas,  and  had 
gained  her  wish.  The  most  unhappy  people  in  the 
world  usually  are  those  to  whom  wishes  are  granted. 
She  had  just  escaped  that  unhappiness  because  of  the 
presence  of  this  man  on  the  island.  And  yet  when 
she  landed  on  that  island,  she  had  escaped  other 


68  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

things,  she  thought  bitterly,  infinitely  more  fraught 
with  horrible  and  revolting  possibilities  than  any 
thing  else  that  could  occur  to  her  or  which  she  could 
imagine  to  be  held  in  waiting  for  her  by  malign  fate. 
Better  this  primitive  savage  than  civilization  as  she 
had  found  it.  How  had  her  philosophy  broken  down 
before  she  reached  that  island.  How  abhorrent  to 
remember  had  been  her  only  attempt  to  put  it  in 
practice. 

She  would  think  of  none  of  these  things.  She 
would  put  them  out  of  her  mind  as  they  had  gone 
out  of  her  sight.  She  was  lost  to  her  world,  to  any 
world  with  which  she  had  been  familiar.  She  would 
create  a  new  world  of  her  own,  he  and  she  together. 
Her  thoughts  took  strange  leaps  forward  in  the  dark 
ness.  He  would  be  hers,  the  product  of  her  ability. 
She  would  teach  him.  She  stopped.  Would  he 
teach  her?  That  question  came  again  and  again. 
Like  Banquo's  ghost,  it  would  not  down.  She  was 
a  woman,  and  he  a  man.  What  were  the  possibilities 
of  that  situation?  She  belonged  to  the  sex  called 
the  weaker,  to  the  sex  characterized  by  dependence. 
She  resented  these  things  as  she  ever  had,  and  yet 
she  could  not  blind  her  eyes  to  the  truth  in  them. 
Her  resentment  against  things  which  ought  not  to  be 
could  in  no  wise  alter  conditions.  Physically  this 
man  was  the  most  perfect  of  his  species.  She  had  an 
artist's  eye  for  the  symmetry  and  perfection  of  his 
proportions.  If  his  brain  corresponded,  what  then? 


The  Island  69 

What  would  he  teach  her?  What  did  Adam  teach 
Eve,  and  what  did  Eve  teach  Adam? 

The  names  of  the  ancient  myth,  the  vague  per 
sonalities  associated  with  it,  brought  back  the  book 
that  lay  upon  the  ledge  by  her  side.  She  reached 
her  hand  out  in  the  darkness  and  laid  it  upon  the 
volume.  How  strange  that  it  alone  of  all  the  litera 
ture  that  the  world  held  should  have  been  thrown  at 
her  feet.  In  her  enlightenment,  with  her  superior 
knowledge,  the  book  that  she  disdained  from  its 
spiritual  side,  although  she  regarded  it  with  a  cer 
tain  amount  of  interest  archeologically,  was  all  she 
had  of  the  world's  writings.  Yet  she  did  not  take 
her  hand  away  from  that  book.  Somehow,  although 
she  did  not  reason  about  it  or  understand  it,  possibly 
even  admit  it  in  her  heart,  certainly  she  would  have 
denied  it  had  anyone  pressed  it  upon  her  attention, 
she  took  comfort  from  the  mere  feel  of  it  under  her 
hand. 

"  The  fool  hath  said  in  his  heart  there  is  no 
God!  "  What  a  strange  saying !  In  spite  of  herself 
she  began  to  reason  about  it,  to  explore  the  sentence, 
to  find  out  its  meaning.  What  did  it  signify?  That 
he  who  denied  God  was  a  fool?  Certainly  that,  but 
anything  more?  Was  there  something  subtler, 
deeper,  in  its  content?  Did  it  mean  that  he  who 
would  fain  play  the  fool  must  begin  by  denying 
God?  That  there  could  be  no  ultimate  folly  so 
long  as  a  belief  in  God  abided?  The  saving  grace 


70  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

of  that  mumbled  prayer  on  the  sand,  uncompre- 
hended,  but  remembered!  What  did  it  all  mean? 
Might  there  be  above  this  fine  human  intelligence 
a  Power  higher?  She  would  look  at  that  book  in 
the  morning. 

The  rain  fell  more  softly  now.  Her  eyes  drooped. 
She  would  look  at  that  book  again  in  the  morning. 
The  fool  had  said  .  .  ,.  Who  was  a  fool? 
.  .  .  What  had  he  said? 

She  slept  again,  only  to  wake  and  muse  once  more. 
She  could  have  slept  better  had  he  been  outside. 
How  could  he  lie  there  in  the  complete  and  steeping 
insensibility  of  slumber.  Her  hand  fell  against  her 
breast.  There  was  the  treasure  trove  of  her  exist 
ence  the  day  before.  What  would  they  tell  her? 
She  could  scarcely  wait  until  morning  to  look.  So 
she  woke  and  slept  and  woke  and  slept  until  the  day 
broke. 

It  was  bright  and  sunshiny  out,  although  there 
were  ominous  clouds  all  about  the  western  horizon. 
It  was  probable  that  the  rainy  season  was  at  hand, 
if  not  upon  them.  She  regretted  that  she  had  not 
given  more  time  to  the  study  of  nature,  to  the  fauna 
and  flora  of  the  South  Seas,  to  the  conditions  of  wind 
and  weather  under  which  life  was  lived  there.  Much 
philosophy  would  she  gladly  have  parted  with  for 
such  practical  information.  She  had  to  piece  her 
ideas  of  affairs  out  from  scraps  and  tags  of  knowl 
edge,  unclassified,  incoherent;  from  vague  recollec- 


The  Island  71 

tions  of  childhood  stories  and  romances;  from  care 
lessly  scanned  collections  of  voyages,  books  of  travel 
and  adventure.  The  result  was  unsatisfactory.  In 
some  particulars  the  instinctive  man  before  her  was 
her  master.  At  the  things  which  went  to  make  up 
physical  comfort  and  well-being  in  a  state  of  abso 
lute  nature  he  certainly  surpassed  her. 

She  was  thankful  when  she  walked  abroad  that 
she  had  had  the  shelter  of  the  cave,  for  everything 
was  drenched  from  the  terrific  downpour.  If  it  was 
the  beginning  of  the  wet  season,  she  knew  that  the 
rains  would  soon  come  again.  Still  she  luxuriated 
in  what  freedom  she  had.  Without  removing  her 
single  garment  she  plunged  into  the  lagoon  for  a 
refreshing  bath.  The  man  followed  her  and  swam 
about  her,  moving  slowly,  with  less  skill  than  she, 
but  as  easily  as  a  porpoise  plunges  about  the  bow 
of  a  progressing  ship. 

Refreshed,  she  came  back  to  the  mouth  of  the 
cave  and  brought  thence  for  a  careful  inspection  all 
her  worldly  possessions  save  the  little  heap  of  cloth 
ing  which  she  had  carefully  piled  upon  the  jutting 
shelf  in  the  shadow  of  the  cave  for  time  of  need. 
She  ranged  them  on  the  sands  before  her.  There 
was  the  Bible,  and  the  little  silver  box  which  she  had 
found  in  the  cave.  She  examined  more  critically  its 
contents,  wondering  what  they  might  be,  and  finally 
there  came  into  her  mind  recognition  that  they  were 
flint  and  steel  I  When  she  wished,  she  could  make  a 


72  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

fire.  She  was  happy  for  the  moment  in  the  knowl 
edge,  and  then  the  uselessness  of  the  power  came 
across  her  curiously.  What  did  she  want  of  fire? 
There  was  nothing  to  cook.  Its  warmth  was  un 
necessary.  Still  she  was  glad  to  have  the  ancient 
flame  kindlers,  and  she  laid  them  aside  carefully  in 
the  box,  not  knowing  when  they  might  be  useful, 
under  what  circumstances  invaluable.  At  least  she 
might  regard  them  as  apparatus  which  would  be 
helpful  in  the  curriculum  through  which  she  meant 
her  savage  pupil  should  pass. 

Then  there  was  her  watch,  which  she  guarded  as 
the  apple  of  her  eye.  It  was  an  American  watch  of 
the  very  best  make,  and  although  it  had  gone  with 
her  through  the  waters,  such  was  the  workmanship 
of  the  case  that  it  had  taken  no  harm.  It  was  ticking 
away  bravely,  marking  time.  She  thought  that  for 
her  time  had  stopped,  and  yet  she  was  glad  indeed 
for  the  almost  human  sound  it  made  when  she  laid 
it  lovingly  against  her  cheek. 

There  were  the  hairpins,  also,  for  which  she  was 
most  grateful.  They  enabled  her  to  keep  her  hair 
in  order.  She  had  a  wealth  of  glorious  hair,  black  as 
the  midnight  sky.  With  the  aid  of  the  mirror  and  of 
the  comb,  which  also  was  a  priceless  treasure,  she  ar 
ranged  it  carefully  according  to  the  mode  which  best 
became  her,  irrespective  quite  of  the  fashion  that 
had  prevailed.  At  least  she  was  free  from  that  tyr 
anny  upon  the  island!  Sometimes,  when  she  had  fin- 


The  Island  73 

ished  her  toilet,  she  shot  a  glance  at  the  watchful 
man,  a  human,  natural,  instinctive  glance,  but  she  was 
able  to  detect  no  change  in  his  mental  attitude,  which 
was  that  of  such  complete  and  entire  adoration, 
mingled  with  timidity  and  hesitation,  that  no  tran 
sient  change  apparently  was  able  to  modify  it.  He 
looked  upon  her  as  he  might  have  looked  upon  a 
god,  she  thought,  had  he  known  what  a  god  was  and 
had  there  been  such  a  thing  to  look  at. 

There  was  also  the  pair  of  scissors,  together  with 
the  little  housewife  with  needles  and  thread.  Mir 
ror,  hairpins,  scissors,  sewing  materials,  comb — 
woman's  gear;  and  the  Bible,  a  woman's  book,  she 
reflected  with  a  certain  bitterness,  unconscious  of  the 
truth  of  her  thought, — a  book  for  children,  old 
women,  and  women-led  men !  Well,  that  philosophy 
upon  which  she  prided  herself  must  come  to  her  as 
sistance  now,  and  she  could  not  afford  to  disdain  the 
volume,  which  was  all  that  the  world  of  many  books 
offered  to  her  for  her  purpose,  because  she  did  not 
believe  in  it.  The  truth  was  in  her,  and  she  could 
tell  him  what  it  was  despite  the  assertions  of  the 
printed  pages. 

In  the  leather  bag  there  was  absolutely  nothing  ex 
cept  broken  glass  and  scratched  bottle  tops  of  silver, 
and  the  bag  itself  was  ruined.  She  separated  the 
pieces  of  metal  and  the  metal  fittings  of  the  bag, 
which  were  also  of  silver,  and,  filling  the  rotting 
leather  with  sand,  she  presently  sank  it  in  the  lagoon. 


74  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

Last  of  all  she  examined  what  she  had  brought 
from  the  other  shore  of  the  island  the  night  before. 
The  silver  was  tarnished,  but  by  rubbing  it  in  the 
sand  she  soon  brightened  it.  It  was  heavily  en 
graved,  and  she  had  no  difficulty  in  making  out  the 
words  "John  Revell  Charnock — His  Dog."  After 
that  was  a  date,  "July  22,  1875."  John  Revell 
Charnock,  then,  would  be  twenty-one  years  old,  as 
suming  that  this  was  he  and  that  the  dog  had  been 
given  him  when  he  was  born.  It  was  more  prob 
able,  however,  that  he  was  from  three  to  five  years 
old  before  he  became  the  owner  of  a  dog,  which 
would  make  him  about  twenty-five. 

The  man  before  her  looked  younger  to  her  scru 
tiny  than  that.  Care  and  trouble  had  passed  him  by. 
With  nothing  to  vex  him  he  might  have  been  any 
age.  He  would  probably  look  just  as  he  was  for 
twenty  years  or  more.  Still  fancifully  adjusting  ex 
ternal  relations  to  internal  relations,  which,  after 
all,  she  realized  was  the  secret  of  life  according  to 
her  favorite  philosopher,  she  concluded  that  the  man 
was  twenty-five,  three  years  older  than  she  at  that 
moment,  a  proper  difference  in  their  ages  for  .  .  . 
Her  face  flamed.  .  .  .  She  scarcely  knew  why, 
and  she  turned  to  an  inspection  of  the  rings. 

The  first  was  a  diamond,  a  solitaire,  of  large 
size  and  of  rare  beauty,  she  judged.  Although  she 
was  not  especially  expert  in  such  matters,  she  deemed 
it  must  be  of  great  value.  There  was  no  inscription 


The  Island  75 

of  any  sort  within  the  narrow  hoop  of  gold,  although 
she  searched  keenly  the  inner  surface.  The  diamond 
was  curiously  set.  There  was  an  exquisite  tracery 
of  a  little  coat  of  arms  on  either  side  of  the  setting, 
done  in  miniature,  but  with  a  skill  to  marvel  at,  yet 
too  small  even  for  her  brilliant  vision  to  decipher 
in  detail. 

The  other  she  recognized  with  a  sneer  as  one  of 
those  fetters  of  convention,  a  wedding  ring.  It  was 
a  heavier  hoop  of  gold,  much  engraved  within.  She 
washed  it  in  the  stream  and  rubbed  it  in  the  sand 
until  she  could  make  it  out.  "J.  R.  C.,"  she  read, 
"to  M.  P.  T."  There  was  a  date  after,  "Septem 
ber  10,  1869,"  and  then  these  cabalistic  words, 
"II  Cor.  xii-i5,"  which  she  presently  divined  to  be 
a  reference  to  some  text  in  the  Bible,  fit  source  from 
which  to  select  the  "posy  of  a  ring,"  agreeable  to 
those  who  submit  to  such  ancient  follies  as  the  well- 
named  bonds  of  matrimony. 

She  reached  for  the  Bible  and  with  unfamiliar 
fingers  searched  through  it  until  she  found  the  place. 

"I  will  very  gladly  spend  and  be  spent  for  you; 
though  the  more  abundantly  I  love  you,  the  less  I 
be  loved'' 

The  beauty  of  the  phrase  caught  her  fancy.  She 
read  with  a  strange  new  interest  the  chapter  in 
which  these  words  were  enshrined.  The  touch  of 
human  passion  came  to  her  across  the  long  years, 
and  with  the  ring  sparkling  in  her  own  white  hand 


76  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

she  embodied  its  tradition  in  personality,  and  the 
woman  who  had  been  so  loved  stood  before  her. 
Her  eyes  fell  again  upon  the  man,  and  the  dream 
was  broken. 

She  pieced  together  now  all  that  she  had  of  him, 
smiling  as  she  did  so  at  the  thought  of  certain 
strange  stories  she  had  read  wherein  men  of  marvel 
ous  deductive  powers  had  brought  to  solution  prob 
lems  which  appeared  as  impossible  of  detection  as 
this  presented  to  her. 

John  Revell  Charnock,  evidently  the  father  of  the 
man  of  the  island,  had  married  one  M.  P.  T.  on  the 
roth  of  September,  1869.  Perhaps  within  a  year 
afterward  this  John  Revell  Charnock,  assuming  him, 
as  was  likely,  to  have  borne  his  father's  name,  was 
born.  Charnock  was  an  old  English  name.  The 
best  English  stock  in  the  United  States  was  of 
Massachusetts  and  Virginia.  The  stern-piece  of  the 
boat  bore  the  name  of  a  Virginia  river  and  of  a 
Virginia  town.  The  man  before  her  was  a  Virgin 
ian,  therefore.  Say  he  was  born  in  1871 ;  it  would 
make  him  twenty-five  years  old,  in  accordance  with 
her  first  guess.  The  father  and  mother,  possibly 
ruined  by  the  results  of  the  Civil  War,  had  embarked 
on  some  vessel  to  seek  fortune  in  a  new  land.  Some 
thing  had  happened  to  the  ship,  and  the  woman,  the 
little  boy,  and  the  dog  had  landed  in  some  way  upon 
these  shores  alone  after  some  horrible  voyage,  per 
haps  like  that  she  had  passed  through.  The  boy 


The  Island  77 

must  have  been  five  or  six  years  old,  else  he  would 
have  died,  being  deserted.  The  woman  had  indeed 
died,  and  the  dog  with  her,  and  left  the  lad  alone. 
Alone  he  had  been  for  a  score  of  years  on  that 
island.  What  watchful  Providence!  .  .  .  Stop! 
She  believed  in  no  Providence.  What  strange,  mys 
terious  fate  had  kept  him  from  the  end  of  the  other 
two,  had  preserved  him  alive  .  .  .  for  her? 

So  she  wove  a  history  out  of  her  treasure  trove  for 
this  man,  a  history  which  at  least  satisfied  her  and 
which,  the  more  she  reasoned  about  it  and  the  more 
she  tested  it,  seemed  absolutely  adequate  and  en 
tirely  correct.  Well,  she  had  opportunity  now,  and 
she  was  glad.  She  faced  the  future  calmly,  recog 
nizing  her  chance  and  her  work,  and  set  about  with 
systematic  method,  order,  and  persistence  to  teach 
this  man  what  it  was  to  be  a  human  being,  to  give 
him,  as  rapidly  as  she  might  communicate  it  and  as 
he  might  receive  it,  all  the  learning  she  possessed; 
to  compensate  him,  with  no  further  delay,  for  those 
twenty  years  of  silence. 

Was  it  for  this  she  had  been  trained  and  educated 
at  great  cost  of  time  and  money  and  effort?  That 
she,  being  a  woman,  should  give  it  all  to  this  one 
man  without  money  and  without  price? 


BOOK   II 
THE  SHIE 


CHAPTER   VI 

THE     BASELESS     FABRIC 

TRUE  philosophy  is  ascetic.  It  may  best  be  prac 
tised  under  conditions  in  which  the  material  is  in 
abeyance.  It  exalts  the  spiritual.  It  is  distinguished 
by  indifference  to  environment.  There  is  nothing  so 
fatal  to  its  profession  as  extravagance.  Frugality 
is  to  the  philosopher  what  modesty  is  to  a  woman — 
the  essential  thing  without  which  it  and  she  cease 
to  be  of  value. 

The  atmosphere  into  which  Katharine  Brenton 
was  suddenly  plunged  by  her  bold  step  was  the  very 
antithesis  of  all  these  requirements.  It  was  un- 
healthful,  and,  like  unhealthful  airs,  it  bred  disaster. 
She  had  been  trained  to  independence  of  conditions, 
to  disregard  of  circumstances,  as  well  as  to  disdain  of 
restraint ;  but  there  was  that  within  her  surroundings 
which,  from  her  first  experience  of  them,  she  felt  in 
stinctively  to  be  vitiating,  which  tended  to  deprave, 
which  precluded  the  exercise  of  clear,  uninfluenced 
mentality.  Especially  in  her  case  was  this  true  since 
the  luxury  with  which  she  had  been  surrounded  ap 
pealed  so  subtly  to  the  preponderant  and,  it  must  be 
admitted,  immortal  feminine  in  her  composition.  Sex 
distinction,  sex  difference,  was  the  one  thing  against 
which  she  fought.  Sex  equality  was  the  supreme 

81 


82  ?The  ^Licand  of  Regeneration 

good  to  be  desired  in  her  scheme  of  right  relation 
ships  between  the  individual  and  the  universe. 
Whiles  she  rebelled  against  her  sex,  whiles  she  re 
joiced  in  it.  Glad  was  she  sometimes  on  that  very 
account  that  to  her  was  given  the  opportunity  to 
prove  her  superiority  to  the  limitations,  disabilities, 
and  man-made  trammels  of  womankind. 

Born  of  two  fanatics  on  the  same  subject,  whose 
insanity  was  modified  and  mollified  by  brilliancy  of 
intellect  in  every  other  field  of  investigation  and  ex 
periment,  Katharine  Brenton  had  been  trained  to  the 
hour  for  her  profession,  for  the  exploitation  of  her 
principles.  The  greatest  of  universities  pointed  to 
her  with  peculiar  pride  as  one  of  the  children  of  the 
free;  free  from  everything  in  thought,  and  deter 
mined  to  be  free  from  everything  in  action.  Much 
was  expected  from  her,  and  the  world  was  not  dis 
appointed  at  the  first  result  of  her  mental  labor. 
There  were  certain  old-fashioned  people  who  de 
plored  the  perversion  of  so  much  talent,  and  even 
genius,  to  the  defense  of  error,  but  these  did  not 
count.  The  world  bought  her  book  in  thousands, 
read  it  avidly,  and  regarded  it  as  the  last  word  of 
the  last  woman  of  the  end  of  the  age  on  the  sex  prob 
lem.  Cleverly  disguising  her  philosophy  in  the  form 
of  fiction,  with  one  bound  she  had  leaped  to  the  fore 
front  of  all  the  writers  struggling  for  recognition. 
Publishers  sought  her.  Magazines  pursued  her.  An 
other  book  took  shape  in  her  mind. 


The  Ship  83 

Singularly  enough,  her  education  and  the  erratic 
bent  of  her  mind  had  left  her  primarily  quite  un 
spoiled.  She  was  the  product  not  merely  of  her  age, 
her  environment,  her  parents,  but  of  a  long  genera 
tion  of  people  to  whom  her  thoughts  would  have 
been  as  abhorrent  as  her  person  was  agreeable.  The 
unconscious  Christianity  which  surrounds  the  world, 
and  especially  the  world  of  woman,  kept  her  pure 
and  sweet  and  lovable — these  In  spite  of,  not  because 
of,  her  perverse  and  perverted  philosophy.  Though 
she  defied  convention  in  its  spirit,  she  was  naturally 
subject  to  it  in  its  exercise.  For  instance,  to  her  the 
marriage  bond  was  indeed  a  bond,  the  marriage  vow 
a  confession  of  weakness — on  the  part  of  the  woman 
at  least — and  the  marriage  relation  an  acknowledg 
ment  of  inferiority — again  on  the  part  of  the  woman. 
She  would  have  none  of  these  things  in  her  life.  Yet, 
as  she  thought,  she  had  given  her  heart  to  a  man — 
alas,  the  submission  to  the  eternal  law! — and  al 
though  their  relationship  was  sanctioned  by  nothing 
but  their  affection,  it  was  to  her  as  pure  and  as  holy 
a  thing  as  if  the  contract  had  been  witnessed  and 
blest  by  a  thousand  priests.  What  was  it  to  him? 
She  counted  without  the  other  sex.  Many  other 
women,  unfortunately,  have  done  the  same. 

Not  content  with  the  writing  of  books,  her  intense 
devotion  to  her  cause,  coupled  with  her  unflagging 
energy,  had  found  vent  upon  the  lecture  platform. 
The  curious  crowded  to  hear  her,  at  once  so  bold,  so 


84  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

radical,  so  beautiful,  and  so  innocent.  One  of  her 
first  converts  had  been  the  only  son  of  a  multi 
millionaire,  bygone  bonanza  king  of  the  Pacific  slope. 
His  conversion  was  not  so  much  an  effort  of  pure 
reason  as  of  primal  passion,  although  that  fact  was 
in  no  wise  apparent  to  her.  She  would  find  that 
out  later.  This  modern  Hypatia,  skilled  in  the  learn 
ing  of  the  schools,  burning  with  exhaustless  zeal, 
permeated  with  fiery  energy,  was  yet  as  innocent  in 
some  ways  as  any  of  her  humbler  sisters.  As  that 
good  Book  which  she  disdained  in  the  newer  illum 
inations  which  had  come  to  her  might  have  said  of 
her,  she  was  in  the  world,  but  not  of  it. 

Unconsciously  she  fulfilled  many  injunctions  of 
Him  who,  had  she  but  known  it,  was  the  greatest  of 
philosophers.  Naturally  she  kept  herself  unspotted 
from  the  world.  Yet  when  the  young  man  who  had 
engaged  her  affections  proposed  to  her  that  they 
should  put  her  theories  in  practice,  after  some  hesi 
tation  she  had  acceded  to  his  proposition.  It  was 
a  species  of  self-immolation  not  far  from  heroism 
that  made  her  consent.  Indeed,  she  did  not  realize 
how  heroic  it  was.  With  no  other  ceremony  than  a 
clasp  of  the  hand  and  an  unspoken,  wordless  promise 
of  trust,  devotion,  single-hearted  alliance,  publicly 
and  before  God  and  man,  without  a  thought  for  the 
one  and  with  no  full  realization  of  the  thoughts  of 
the  other — at  least  on  her  part — they  had  gone  away 
together,  hand  in  hand,  he  and  she  together,  in  love 


The  Ship  85 

like  any  other  pair  since  Eve  mated  with  Adam  in 
the  dawn  of  the  world's  first  morning. 

Yet  there  has  never  been  an  Eden  of  which  man 
has  known  without  its  serpent.  In  the  cabin  of  that 
gorgeous  yacht,  Sathanas  reared  his  head.  The  first 
week  or  so  of  the  adventure  had  been  filled  with 
idyllic  happiness,  happiness  so  great  that  it  was 
strong  enough  to  quiet  certain  low,  still,  small  voices 
of  conscience  which  the  woman  rightly  ascribed  to 
a  strange  atavism  of  ancient  prejudice  to  which  her 
philosophy  was  as  yet  unequal. 

However,  such  conditions  did  not  long  persist. 
Her  disciple  was  inclined,  presently  she  found  to  her 
sorrow,  to  take  a  somewhat  lower  view  of  the  situa 
tion  than  suited  her  own  high-souled  views.  The 
ardor  of  her  devotee  cooled  as  his  passion  increased. 
Shut  up  in  the  narrow  confines  of  a  ship — great  and 
splendid  though  this  yacht  was  beyond  imagination 
— little  characteristics,  heretofore  unsuspected,  de 
veloped  in  the  mere  man.  The  course  of  true  love 
was  not  so  smooth  as  the  summer  seas  over  which 
they  sailed.  The  air  in  which  they  lived  was  ruffled 
by  flurries  in  which  experience  would  have  found 
presage  of  coming  deeper  storm.  The  image  that 
had  feet  of  clay  sought  for  similar  earthly  alloy  in 
the  companion  image  which  was  made  of  pure  gold 
all  through,  and  finding  it  not,  resented  it  desper 
ately.  The  convert,  having  gained  his  desire,  weak 
ened  in  his  principles.  There  was  no  relaxation  in 


86  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

his  devotion,  in  his  tenderness,  in  anything  outward 
and  visible,  but  the  high  philosophy  which  had  made 
the  joint  effort  almost  a  self-sacrifice  of  demonstra 
tion  was  slowly  vanishing  from  one  heart  while  the 
other  clung  the  more  tenaciously  to  it. 

It  was  the  old,  old  story.  In  a  little  time  the  cats- 
paw  developed  into  the  tempest.  When  it  appeared 
it  came  with  surprising  swiftness.  The  woman  found 
that  in  neither  abstract  thought  nor  mental  specula 
tion  was  there  any  protection  for  her.  There  might 
be  no  God  in  heaven,  but  there  was  a  conscience  in 
her  breast.  Finally  she  broke  away  from  the  man  so 
far  as  she  could  do  so  when  they  were  both  in  the 
same  ship  of  which  he  was  lord  and  master.  She 
would  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  him  save  that 
which  common  decency  and  the  bare  civilities  of  life 
demanded  of  her.  Denied  the  privileges  upon  which 
he  had  counted,  the  man  grew  savage  and  showed 
the  cloven  foot.  The  disagreement  became  a  quarrel. 
The  quarrel  ran  through  several  phases.  Ashamed 
of  himself,  he  had  recanted  at  first.  Then  he  had 
sworn  again  allegiance  to  the  specious  philosophy 
which  she  now  realized  he  had  only  professed,  con 
sciously  or  unconsciously,  that  he  might  possess  her. 
But  she  was  not  deceived.  There  was  no  truth  in 
his  words;  his  asseverations  carried  no  conviction  to 
her  soul.  Again  he  stormed  and  raged;  once  more 
he  apologized  and  appealed,  but  the  periods  of  calm 
grew  shorter  and  the  periods  of  storm  grew  longer 


The  Ship  87 

and  more  vehement.  The  woman  alone  was  stead 
fast.  She  was  overwhelmed  with  shame,  the  horror 
of  the  situation  was  rising  upon  her. 

She  began  to  realize  how  helpless  she  was.  Under, 
the  inspiration  of  a  belief  which  was  as  honest  as 
it  was  mistaken,  she  had  put  herself  in  the  power 
of  this  man.  Even  if  she  were  ashore,  there  would 
be  no  one  to  whom  she  could  appeal,  and  here  on  the 
ship  she  was  helpless.  Lingering  remains  of  better 
things  had  kept  him  from  the  last  resort  of  the  ty 
rant — force ! — but  how  long  these  would  be  opera 
tive  in  restraint,  she  could  not  tell.  She  fancied  not 
for  long.  What  should  she  do  then? 

She  saw  the  end  coming  when  in  his  anger  he  re 
sorted  to  drink,  to  drink  which  exploded  the  last 
vestige  of  his  philosophy,  however  he  had  professed 
it.  She  was  frightened  beyond  measure  when  she 
realized  the  depths  to  which  he  had  sunk  and  to 
which,  in  spite  of  herself,  he  had  dragged  her.  What 
further  descent  was  before  her?  She  did  not  even 
yet  abandon  that  philosophy  which  had  served  her 
so  ill.  She  clung  to  that  with  the  more  tenacious 
pride  because  of  its  very  weakness,  but  she  loathed 
mankind.  On  that  yacht  he  summed  up  for  her  the 
whole  human  race,  and  she  hated  him  and  it.  To 
what  sorry  pass  had  a  few  weeks'  practical  experi 
ence  reduced  her?  In  the  last  analysis  she  felt  that 
she  could  die.  Suicide  was  always  possible.  Rather 
than  endure  further  pollution,  what  she  now  char- 


88  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

acterized  as  the  degradation  of  his  touch,  she  could 
slip  overboard  into  the  blue  depths  whose  calm  was 
so  attractive  to  her  storm-torn  soul. 

Yet,  in  spite  of  the  loathing  with  which  she  re 
garded  herself  for  having  been  so  foolish,  so  swayed 
by  human  feeling  to  which  she  had  believed  herself 
superior,  as  to  be  blinded  to  the  real  character  of  the 
man  with  whom  she  had  so  defiantly  gone  away  in 
the  full  light  of  day,  she  still  loved  life.  She  pro 
tested  in  her  soul  that  a  single  mistake  should  not 
blight  her  career;  the  decision  of  a  moment  should 
not  be  allowed  to  settle  the  affairs  of  a  lifetime.  She 
could  repair  her  awful  blunder  and  take  up  her  life 
again,  she  thought  fatuously,  if  she  could  only  get 
away. 

There  was  another  thing  that  made  her  cling  to 
existence.  Suicide  would  be  a  confession  of  fail 
ure.  She  would  not  admit  to  herself  that  she  had 
failed.  She  would  not  allow  the  world,  which  had 
stood  at  her  feet  with  acclaim,  to  point,  as  it  would 
do  with  the  same  zest,  the  finger  of  scorn  at  her. 
She  must  live.  She  had  work  to  do.  If  she  could 
only  get  away! 

Her  affection  for  this  man,  which  had  been  largely 
maternal,  experimental,  inquisitorial,  which  had  been 
begot  of  the  martyr  spirit  in  which  she  had  resolved 
to  show  humanity  that  she  could  despise  convention 
when  it  was  wrong  and  live,  was  gone.  She  de 
spised  him  and  she  pitied  him.  There  yet  remained 


The  Ship  89 

one  completing  feeling  which  she  would  presently 
entertain  for  him,  and  when  that  found  lodgment  in 
her  bosom,  action  would  become  imperative. 

She  had  said,  as  they  took  their  departure  through 
the  Golden  Gate — of  vain,  fond  dreams — that  she 
wanted  to  go  to  unknown  seas,  when  he  had  asked, 
on  that  never-to-be-forgotten  night  when  they  had 
left  civilization  behind,  what  was  her  pleasure.  She 
felt  somehow  a  sympathy  for  the  unknown  sea  when 
adventuring  upon  such  a  course,  and  the  yacht,  pro 
visioned  for  a  long  cruise,  had  steamed  steadily  to 
the  southwest  through  the  great  Pacific.  They  had 
long  since  passed  the  line  and  were  in  strange  and 
unfrequented  waters.  The  navigating  officer  had 
told  her  that  at  any  time  they  might  expect  to  run 
across  unknown,  unvisited  islands,  from  the  ex 
ploration  of  which,  when  she  started  out  with  such 
rosy  hopes,  she  had  promised  herself  much  pleasure. 
Now  she  desired  only  civilization,  base,  ignoble,  re 
strained,  thwarted,  dwarfed,  hideous  civilization. 
As  it  was,  she  longed  to  be  free  of  a  presence  even, 
not  realizing  that  at  least  she  could  never  be  free 
from  a  recollection.  She  longed  to  stand  before  her 
kind  and  tell  them  how  she  despised  them,  perhaps 
lead  some  of  them  to  better  ways,  warn  some  others 
from  follies  and  trusts  which  had  betrayed  her;  to 
be  a  philosopher  once  more,  and  not  merely  a  stricken 
woman. 

She  had  begged  and  pleaded  with  him  to  alter 


90  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

the  yacht's  course,  but  he  had  sworn  he  would  go 
farther  South  into  those  unknown  seas,  and  keep  her 
there  until  she  crawled  to  his  feet.  So  the  long  hours 
dragged  on.  The  inevitable  rupture  drew  nearer. 
At  last  it  came.  In  its  details  it  was  horrible,  but 
there  was  in  it  a  great  relief  after  all. 


CHAPTER    VII 

THE     JOY     OF     FREEDOM 

ONE  night  at  dinner  she  had  fled  from  him.  He  had 
been  drinking  more  heavily  than  usual  and  was  in  an 
ugly  mood.  His  handsome  face  was  flushed,  a  sav 
age  frown  overspread  his  brow.  He  had  risen  dur 
ing  the  meal  and  with  a  coarse  endearment  had  at 
tempted  to  lay  hands  upon  her — at  last!  She  had 
broken  away  and  darted  into  the  nearest  cabin,  which 
happened  to  be  his  own.  She  had  closed  the  door 
and  turned  the  key  against  him  before  he  realized 
what  she  was  about.  She  stood  within  the  little 
room  panting,  enraged,  fearful,  yet  ready  to  defend 
her  all,  and  almost  glad  the  crisis  had  arrived.  She 
could  hear  his  drunken  laugh  outside  the  door. 

"  Why,  you  little  fool !  "  he  cried,  "  do  you  think 
I  can't  break  that  lock  down  in  a  moment?  The 
ship's  mine,  every  man  on  it's  mine.  I  pay  'em. 
They  do  my  bidding.  I  have  you  where  I  want  you, 
and  I  can  have  you  again  as  before  when  I  please; 
now — or  later." 

Was  it  true  ?  Could  she  appeal  to  the  men  ?  But 
what  could  she  say?  Although  the  world  knew  there 
was  no  binding  tie  between  them,  to  the  officers  and 
men  of  the  yacht  she  was  his  wife.  They  would  not 

91 


92  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

interfere.  And  if  she  declared  the  truth,  she  would 
put  herself  beyond  the  pale  of  their  sympathies.  Be 
ing  merely  stupid  men  with  conventional  ideas  about 
propriety,  in  that  event  they  would  be  less  apt  to  in 
terfere  than  ever.  It  was  true  she  could  do  nothing. 
She  sank  down  on  a  transom,  clenching  her  hands. 
She  could  hear  him  outside  chuckling  to  himself  and, 
by  the  clink  of  bottle  and  glass,  evidently  drinking 
deeper.  She  feared  him  desperately  when  he  was  in 
his  cups.  Then  he  was  another  man,  losing  all  re 
semblance  to  the  being  for  whom  she  had  fatuously 
thought  she  cared.  Therefore  she  would  wait  until 
he  drank  himself  into  insensibility,  as  he  had  once  or 
twice,  or  went  up  on  deck,  and  then  she  would  go  out 
and  go  to  her  own  cabin,  although  it  would  merely 
mean  changing  from  one  prison  to  another.  What 
could  she  do  by  temporizing  any  way,  temporizing 
and  warding  off  as  best  she  might  until  she  was  face 
to  face  with  the  final  decision,  death  or  compliance, 
freedom  in  the  beyond  whose  existence  was  so  vague 
and  indefinite  to  her,  or  a  slavery  so  base  that  any 
thing  were  preferable  to  it. 

As  she  sat,  her  eyes  fell  on  a  chest  of  drawers 
screwed  against  the  bulkhead.  The  top  contained 
various  toilet  articles  of  silver.  Among  them  was  a 
picture,  the  picture  of  a  woman.  It  was  not  her 
picture.  Moved  by  what  impulse  she  did  not  stop 
to  analyze,  she  rose  and  picked  it  up.  The  face 
she  looked  at  was  ineffably  vulgar  and  common. 


The  Ship  93 

Across  the  bottom  was  written  in  a  scrawly,  un 
formed  hand,  "  Your  devoted  wife."  There  was  a 
date  several  years  before  that  hour.  Your  devoted 
wife!  She  had  been  in  that  stateroom  before;  she 
had  never  seen  that  picture.  He  had  only  brought 
it  out  since  the  rupture  between  them. 

And  so  while  entering  into  this  relationship  with 
her,  in  compliance  with  principles  and  ideas  which  she 
at  least  regarded  as  sacred  and  holy,  he  had  not 
been  a  free  man.  There  was  another  woman  to 
whom  he  had  been  bound.  Oh,  not  by  the  marriage 
tie  that  she  disdained,  but  by  the  honor  which  was 
supposed  to  exist  among  thieves,  and  which  certainly 
should  exist  among  philosophers.  And  such  a 
woman!  A  cold  fury  filled  her  mind  as  she  looked 
at  the  picture.  The  last  completing  touch  had  been 
given.  To  contempt  and  pity  for  him  was  added 
hatred.  The  combination  transformed  her.  In 
stead  of  avoiding,  she  would  seek  him. 

He  was  still  in  the  cabin.  She  could  hear  him 
muttering  thickly  to  himself.  Impulsively  she  stepped 
to  the  door,  turned  the  key  in  the  lock,  threw 
it  open  and  entered  the  brilliantly  lighted,  luxurious 
cabin.  He  had  dismissed  the  stewards  some  time 
since  with  orders  not  to  reappear  unless  he  summoned 
them,  and  they  were  alone.  There  was  no  likeli 
hood  of  any  interruptions  whatsoever.  The  man, 
who  was  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  bent  forward 
when  she  opened  the  door.  He  laughed  viciously. 


94  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

If  she  had  reflected,  she  would  have  marveled  at  the 
change  that  a  few  weeks  had  wrought  in  one  whom 
she  had  hitherto  deemed  worthy  of  her  affection,  but 
she  had  eyes  and  thought  for  nothing  except  the 
business  in  hand. 

"  So  you've  come  out,  have  you?"  he  stammered 
triumphantly.  "Come  of  your  own  free  will? 
You've  found  out,  have  you,  that  I  am  master,  and 
you  are  coming  to  heel?  " 

He  whistled  to  her  derisively,  whistled  as  if  to 
a  dog! 

u  Who  is  this?  "  asked  the  woman  in  a  voice  care 
fully  suppressed,  yet  which  shook  with  wrath. 

She  held  the  photograph  in  its  heavy  silver  frame 
up  before  him. 

"That's  my  wife,"  he  said  equably,  with  no  sur 
prise  or  consternation.  "  We  haven't  lived  together 
for  some  years,"  he  went  on  with  drunken  good  na 
ture,  "  or  I'd  take  you  back  to  San  Francisco  and  in 
troduce  you  to  her." 

"  Your  wife!  "  exclaimed  the  woman  in  that  same 
low,  tense  voice.  "Then  what  am  I?" 

"  My  mistress,"  said  the  man  bluntly,  throwing 
the  last  shred  of  concealment  and  decency  to  the 
winds,  "  and  a  damned  obstreperous  one  at  that," 
he  went  on. 

Now,  the  woman  believed  in  no  Providence,  but  a 
trick  got  from  her  ancestry  wrung  the  words  from 
her  lips. 


The  Ship  95 

"  My  God !     My  God !  "  she  whispered. 

"  You  haven't  any,"  sneered  the  man.  "  You  told 
me  so  yourself."  He  laughed.  "  And  I  believed 
you.  I  would  have  believed  anything  to  get  you." 

Well,  there  was  no  God  the  woman  realized,  but 
she  would  be  her  own  god.  Her  body  shrank  to 
gether  a  little,  her  hands  clenched.  The  feline  was 
uppermost.  She  could  have  sprung  upon  him,  but 
she  waited,  waited  for  she  knew  not  what. 

"Whom  the  gods  destroy,"  ran  the  ancient 
phrase,  "  they  first  make  mad." 

He  rushed  to  his  doom  with  blind  folly. 

"  You  needn't  be  jealous  of  her,  my  dear,"  he 
mumbled  on.  "  I  used  to  think  I  loved  her,  and  we 
were  married.  Damned  foolishness,  as  you  might 
say.  She  can't  hold  a  candle  to  you,  even  if  you 
are  a  little  touched," — he  tapped  his  forehead  im 
pudently — "  in  the  upper  story." 

And  this  man,  this  degraded  thing,  regarded  her 
as  a  mad  woman.  There  might  be  no  God,  but 
there  was  a  devil,  and  he  stood  before  her.  There 
might  be  no  heaven,  but  there  was  a  hell,  and  she 
was  in  it. 

"  On  second  thought,"  he  rambled  on,  "  I  couldn't 
introduce  you  to  her.  You  aren't  respectable,  and 
she  is." 

He  stopped  and  poured  himself  another  drink. 

"Respectable!"  he  laughed.  "To  hell  with  re- 
spectability.  We  know  a  better  thing  than  that! 


96  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

*  Soul  to  soul,  heart  to  heart,  the  union  of  equals 
without  the  trammels  of  conventional  bonds  for 
weaker  beings.'  Yes,  that's  what  you  said." 

And  she  recognized  with  horror  that  he  was 
quoting  her  own  words. 

"  But  it  doesn't  go,  you  see.  It's  all  very  well  in 
theory,  but  it  doesn't  work  out  in  practice.  The 
world's  got  some  ideas  of  its  own.  It's  been  hold 
ing  'em  for  a  good  many  thousands  of  years,  and  you 
can't  change  'em.  You  belong  to  me  now.  To  hell 
with  your  equality!  You  are  nothing  more  nor  less 
than  my  property  and,  mark  you," — he  reached  out 
a  trembling  finger  and  shook  it  at  her — "  your  sal 
vation  is  with  me.  If  I  cast  you  off,  you  go  into  the 
gutter." 

She  wondered  vaguely  how  much  more  of  this  she 
could  stand  and  live. 

"  But  don't  be  afraid,"  he  went  on  with  a  drunken 
attempt  at  reassurance,  "  you  are  too  fine  and  too 
handsome,  even  if  you  are  cracked,  for  that     . 
yet.     I'm  glad  to  see  you've  come  to  your  senses." 

He  rose  heavily  as  he  spoke  and  felt  his  way 
around  the  table  hand  over  hand.  He  approached 
her.  She  let  him  do  it.  She  shrank  a  little  closer 
together,  every  muscle  tense  for  action.  She  was  no 
longer  a  woman;  she  was  a  human  tigress,  and  her 
philosophy  was  gone.  He  was  too  drunk  to  see  it, 
too  incapacitated  to  take  warning. 

"That's  right,"  he  continued  as  he  lurched  nearer 


The  Ship  97 

to  her.  "  Stay  right  there.  I'm  coming  to  you  as 
fast  as  I  can,  and  when  I  get  close  to  you,  we'll 
kiss,  and  .  .  ." 

He  was  by  her  side  now.  He  straightened  him 
self  up  with  a  spasmodic  effort,  released  his  hold  on 
the  table,  and  stretched  out  his  arms  toward  her. 
And  then  she  sprang  at  him.  How  she  did  it  she 
could  never  tell,  but  in  some  way  her  outstretched 
arms,  grasping  for  his  throat,  struck  him  in  the 
breast.  Unsteady  on  his  feet,  he  went  down  as  if 
he  had  been  shot.  Such  was  the  violence  of  his  fall 
that  the  momentum  carried  her  with  him.  She  fell 
upon  him  with  all  her  force.  His  head  went  back 
and  struck  the  deck  with  a  frightful  crash.  She  her 
self  was  almost  stunned  by  the  violence  of  her  own 
fall,  although  his  body  broke  it. 

She  arose  and  stood  over  him  for  a  minute,  and 
then  in  her  frenzy  she  lifted  her  foot  and  brought  it 
down  upon  him.  He  had  said  she  was  a  mad  woman, 
and  it  was  true.  She  was  crazed  by  what  she  had 
heard,  by  the  horror  of  the  situation.  She  had  not 
changed  her  dress  for  dinner  that  afternoon.  She 
was  wearing  a  pair  of  light  boating  shoes.  It  was 
lucky  for  him.  If  she  had  worn  evening  slippers 
with  high,  rigid  heels,  she  would  have  torn  his  face 
beyond  recognition.  As  it  was,  she  left  horrible 
marks  upon  it.  He  lay  absolutely  motionless.  She 
could  see  that  he  was  yet  breathing  and  was  not 
dead.  If  she  had  had  a  weapon,  she  might  have 


98  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

killed  him  in  the  fury  and  transport  of  her  rage. 
This  wretched,  wretched  philosopher !  As  no  re 
sistance  came  from  him,  she  presently  stopped,  the 
feminine  in  her  slowly  rising  to  the  fore. 

She  realized  now  that  the  Irrevocable  had  hap 
pened;  that  there  was  no  longer  room  for  two  of 
them  on  that  ship.  As  the  mists  of  passion  cleared 
away,  although  the  fire  of  rage  still  burned  in  her 
heart,  her  mind  cleared  also.  She  thought  with  such 
rapidity  as  she  had  never  thought  before. 

First  she  picked  up  a  cloak,  threw  it  about  her 
and  went  on  deck.  A  cabin  steward  was  standing  at 
the  companion-way,  as  was  always  the  case,  waiting 
a  possible  summons.  She  told  him  that  his  master 
was  ill  and  did  not  desire  to  be  disturbed.  He  did 
not  even  want  the  dinner  things  cleared  away.  He 
wanted  to  be  left  entirely  alone  until  morning.  The 
servant  smiled  slightly,  she  thought,  in  the  light 
from  the  cabin  skylight.  She  noticed  that  it  was  a 
moonless  night,  cloudy,  overcast,  for  she  could  see 
no  stars.  She  knew  what  that  smile  meant;  that  the 
man  realized  what  sort  of  sickness  his  owner  and 
master  was  liable  to.  She  bade  him  tell  the  officer 
of  the  deck  her  message,  and  then  dismissed  him. 

Then  she  returned  to  the  cabin  and  carefully  locked 
the  door.  She  glanced  at  the  man  as  she  did  so. 
He  lay  just  as  he  had  lain  before.  She  bent  over 
him.  He  was  still  breathing,  she  noted  with — was  it 
regret?  But  she  wasted  no  time  over  him.  Time 


The  Ship  99 

was  the  most  precious  of  all  things  to  her  at  that 
moment. 

She  had  a  clear  and  definite  plan  of  action.  She 
knew  exactly  what  she  intended  to  do  and  how  she 
intended  to  do  it.  Fortunately  the  means  of  escape 
were  at  hand.  They  had  passed  one  or  two  tiny 
islands  during  the  day,  mere  treeless  spots  of  sand 
or  coral  in  the  vast  of  the  ocean,  but  prospects  that 
others  more  inviting  might  be  raised  had  caused  the 
man  to  order  the  power  tender  to  be  got  overboard. 
This  was  a  good,  substantial  boat,  fifteen  feet  in 
length,  broad-beamed  and  built  for  heavy  seas,  yet 
powerfully  engined  and  capable  of  good  speed.  By 
his  direction  the  tanks  had  been  filled  and  everything 
overhauled  so  that  it  would  be  in  readiness  for  use. 
The  sea  was  very  calm  and  the  gentle  air  scarcely 
raised  a  ripple  on  its  surface.  To  save  the  trouble 
of  hoisting  it  aboard  again  the  tender  had  been  left 
trailing  astern  at  the  end  of  a  long  line.  It  would 
be  ready  for  instant  use.  She  would  escape  in  that. 
She  knew  how  to  run  the  motor  and  how  to  steer 
the  boat.  She  had  done  it  many  a  time. 

Carrying  her  heavy  boat  cloak,  she  entered  her 
cabin,  hastily  packed  her  bag  with  what  things  she 
fancied  she  would  need,  returned  to  the  table,  took 
from  it  every  scrap  that  was  edible  and  portable, 
without  much  regard  for  the  niceties  in  her  hurry. 
She  made  it  up  in  a  heavy  parcel  which  she  tied  with 
napkins.  She  remembered  that  the  water  tank  in  the 


TOO  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

launch  had  been  filled,  so  that  for  a  time  at  least  she 
would  lack  nothing.  Carrying  bag  and  bundle  in 
her  hands  and  with  the  boat  cloak  over  her  arm  and 
a  straw  hat  tied  on  her  head,  after  one  long  look  at 
the  man,  she  turned  and  went  aft  and  re-entered  the 
starboard  after  stateroom,  her  own. 

The  boat's  painter  had  been  affixed  to  the  star 
board  side  of  the  yacht.  She  opened  the  stern  win 
dow  and  looked  out.  She  leaned  far  out  and  by 
great  good  fortune  in  the  darkness  caught  the 
painter.  The  boat,  of  course,  was  swinging  to  a 
long  scope.  She  pulled  at  this  line  cautiously,  al 
though  the  effort  taxed  her  strength  to  the  utmost. 
Indeed,  she  seemed  possessed  of  a  fictitious  strength 
for  the  time  being,  else  she  never  could  have  ac 
complished  her  hard  task.  But  she  managed  to  get 
the  boat  practically  under  the  overhang  at  last.  She 
fastened  the  painter  to  her  bed,  which  was  of  brass 
and  securely  screwed  to  the  floor.  Then  she  cut  off 
the  line  and  tied  the  bundle  of  provisions  and  her 
bag  and  the  cloak  to  the  end  of  it.  These  she 
carefully  lowered  into  the  boat.  Among  the  pretty 
articles  that  she  had  picked  up  on  the  cruise  was  a 
sharp  sailor's  sheath  knife  fastened  to  a  lanyard. 
She  slipped  this  lanyard  around  her  neck  and  thrust 
the  knife  into  her  blouse.  Then  she  climbed  up  on 
the  port  sill  and  essayed  the  dangerous  descent  her 
self.  She  was  glad  that  she  was  a  strong,  athletic 
woman,  used  to  trusting  to  her  own  skill  and  powers, 


The  Ship  101 

for  it  was  no  easy  task  to  slide  down  that  rope  and 
get  into  a  boat  trailing  along  beneath  the  counter  of 
a  yacht  going  perhaps  twelve  knots  an  hour.  For 
tunately  the  motor  was  well  aft  and  the  bow  of  the 
launch  was  high  out  of  the  water,  else  her  weight 
would  have  pressed  it  down  and  the  back  wash  from 
the  yacht  would  perhaps  have  swamped  the  launch. 

At  any  rate,  she  succeeded,  although  after  she  got 
her  foot  in  the  bows  she  slipped  and  fell.  But  that 
she  fell  straight  aft  upon  the  cloak  and  bundles,  she 
would  have  hurt  herself  severely.  If  she  had  not 
fallen  that  way,  if  she  had  pitched  to  the  right  or 
left,  she  would  have  gone  overboard,  and  that  would 
have  been  the  end,  for  she  knew  that  she  would 
have  died  rather  than  appeal  to  that  ship  for  help. 
She  was  fearful  that  the  noise  of  her  fall  might  have 
attracted  the  attention  of  someone  on  the  deck,  but 
the  poop  of  the  yacht  was  usually  deserted  at  night 
and  it  was  unlikely  that  anyone  would  be  up  there. 

Scrambling  to  her  feet,  she  drew  her  knife  and 
severed  the  taut  rope  that  held  the  launch  to  the 
yacht.  It  parted  instantly.  She  was  whirled  back 
wards  and  sideways  with  a  suddenness  that  again  al 
most  threw  her  out  of  the  boat.  For  one  agoniz 
ing  moment  the  launch  lay  full  in  the  broad  beam  of 
light  that  proceeded  from  the  bright  cabin  window 
she  had  left.  For  one  agonizing  moment  of  sus 
pense  she  hung  there,  and  then  the  swirl  of  the  wave 
carried  her  into  the  darkness. 


IO2  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

She  lay  directly  in  the  wake  of  the  yacht,  and  the 
launch  was  pitched  up  and  down  by  the  waves  made 
by  the  rapidly  moving  ship  with  a  violence  of  motion 
that  was  sickening.  There  were  a  pair  of  oars  in 
the  boat,  but  she  did  not  break  them  out.  She  just 
drew  herself  down  in  the  stern  sheets  and  lay  there 
waiting.  She  knew  that  the  clatter  of  the  motor  could 
be  heard  a  long  distance  in  so  still  a  night  and  over 
so  still  a  sea,  and,  therefore,  although  her  impulse 
was  to  start  it  at  once,  she  restrained  herself  and 
waited,  watching  the  yacht  rapidly  draw  away.  She 
could  mark  her  course  easily  by  the  light  from  that 
cabin  window.  Her  ear  was  keen  and  she  listened 
until  she  could  no  longer  detect  the  beat  and  throb 
of  the  steamer's  engines.  Then  she  rose  and 
started  the  motor. 

The  boat  was  provided  with  a  compass,  and  al 
though  she  could  see  no  star,  she  was  able  to  set  a 
course  which  was  directly  at  right  angles  to  the  course 
of  the  yacht.  She  realized,  or  at  least  she  thought 
so,  that  she  would  be  pursued.  She  believed  that 
the  yacht  would  retrace  its  course.  She  decided  that 
those  aboard  her  would  reason  that  she  would  en 
deavor  to  put  as  much  distance  as  possible  between 
herself  and  the  yacht,  and  therefore  she  would  sail 
straight  away  from  it.  Consequently,  she  went  broad 
off  to  starboard  at  right  angles  to  the  other  course. 
The  gasoline  tanks  were  both  full.  Inasmuch  as 


The  Ship  103 

the  boat  had  been  designed  for  extended  cruising 
in  shallow  waters,  there  was  enough  fuel  to  keep  the 
motor  going  for  over  thirty  hours  at  full  speed.  The 
motor  was  capable  of  developing  at  least  ten  knots 
per  hour.  By  the  same  time  to-morrow  night  she 
would  be  two  hundred  and  forty  miles  away  from 
the  present  spot.  The  yacht  was  going  twelve 
knots  an  hour.  Her  escape  would  probably  not 
be  discovered  for  ten  hours.  By  that  time  the  yacht 
would  be  a  hundred  and  twenty  miles  away.  They 
would  be  a  hundred  and  fifty  miles  apart  by  morn 
ing,  measured  on  the  hypotenuse,  and  by  night — 
who  could  tell?  At  any  rate,  she  had  now  done  ali 
that  she  could. 

Her  condition  was  desperate;  her  prospects  gloomy 
beyond  expression.  She  was  alone  in  a  small  power 
boat  which  would  be  helpless,  the  sport  of  wind  and 
waves  after  perhaps  thirty  hours.  That  boat  was 
alone  in  the  great  expanse  of  the  Pacific  Ocean. 
Somewhere  about  there  were  islands  probably.  In 
deed,  on  the  charts  those  seas  were  dotted  with 
points  of  land,  but  they  were  small,  inconsiderable, 
uninhabited,  unknown.  In  that  little  boat  she  might 
pass  close  by  many  of  them  without  seeing  them. 
She  had  provisions,  such  as  they  were,  and  water 
sufficient  perhaps  for  a  week  or  ten  days.  After 
that,  unless  she  landed  somwhere,  she  would  drift 
on  until  she  starved  and  died.  If  a  storm  came,  the 


104  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

launch  probably  would  not  survive  it.  Her  chances 
of  escape  in  any  event  were  worse  than  problemati 
cal.  The  end  was  almost  certain. 

But  she  was  happy.  The  first  real  ray  of  hap 
piness  which  had  entered  her  soul  since  the  begin 
ning  of  the  great  awakening,  which  had  culminated 
in  the  frightful  scefte  of  the  night,  illumined  her 
being.  As  she  sat  in  the  stern  sheets,  her  hand  on 
the  steering  wheel,  listening  to  the  steady  drumming 
of  the  motor,  seeing  the  black  water  broken  into 
foam  by  the  boat's  bows  flash  by  her,  keeping  the 
launch  steady  on  her  course  by  the  aid  of  the  com 
pass  needle,  her  eyes  turned  ever  and  anon  to  the 
fast-diminishing  point  of  light  which  marked  the 
rapidly  disappearing  yacht,  and  she  realized  that 
she  was  free.  She  had  hurled  out  of  her  path — and 
how  she  exulted  in  her  own  prowess;  it  was  some 
thing  of  a  salve  to  her  soul  for  the  wretched  humil 
iations  which  had  been  heaped  upon  it — she  had 
hurled  out  of  her  path  and  stricken  down,  as  any 
other  animal  might  have  done,  him  who  had  brought 
her  to  this  awful  pass.  She  was  away  from  him,  free 
from  him.  She  was  once  more,  so  far  as  wind  and 
wave  allowed,  the  master  of  her  fate,  the  mistress 
of  her  destiny. 

She  was  glad  in  her  heart,  too,  that  there  were 
to  be  no  physical  consequences  from  her  brief  alli 
ance.  She  did  not  realize  that  there  were  to  be  other 
consequences  which  not  even  all  the  waters  of  the 


The  Ship  105 

seas  over  which  she  floated  could  wash  out.  There 
was  a  strange  elation  in  her  soul.  She  felt  as  if  in 
some  way  she  had  vindicated  her  right  to  be.  There 
was  something  yet  in  her  philosophy,  and,  did  op 
portunity  serve,  could  she  get  free  from  the  dangers 
that  encompassed  her,  she  vowed  that  she  would 
prove  it. 

All  night  long  she  stayed  awake,  keeping  the 
launch  to  her  course.  When  morning  broke  she  was 
absolutely  alone  upon  the  ocean.  Standing  erect 
upon  a  seat,  from  her  low  vantage  point  she  could 
see  nothing  but  smoothly  undulating  sea.  She 
breakfasted  sparingly  from  her  scanty  store,  and  re 
sumed  her  post  at  the  wheel.  She  was  tired  and 
sleepy,  but  while  the  little  engine  was  alive  she  could 
not  leave  it  to  its  own  devices.  She  must  hold  on  her 
chosen  course  so  long  as  the  motive  power  remained. 
She  could  not  lose  a  moment  while  that  motor 
throbbed  and  beat.  She  must  be  alive  with  it.  There 
would  be  time  to  sleep  when  it  was  exhausted.  She 
must  put  many  leagues  between  her  and  pursuit  by 
holding  the  direct  course  as  long  as  was  possible. 

And  so  she  sat  there  grimly,  hands  clutching  the 
wheel,  through  the  long  day  and  through  the  longer 
night  and  well  into  the  following  morning.  It  must 
have  been  half-past  ten  on  the  morning  of  the  second 
day  before  the  motor  stopped.  The  silence,  after 
the  ceaseless  drumming  of  a  night,  a  long  day,  a 
longer  night,  and  a  still  longer  morning,  struck  her 


106  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

with  the  same  strange  sense  of  shock.  She  calculated 
that  the  motor  had  been  running  for  thirty-eight 
hours,  and  that  she  had  gone  three  hundred  and 
eighty  miles  at  least  on  her  course.  She  had  seen 
nothing  whatever  of  the  yacht.  The  chances  that 
it  would  pick  her  up,  even  if  it  came  about  and 
cruised  for  her,  a  lonely  speck  in  the  ocean,  were 
millions  to  nothing.  At  any  rate,  she  had  done  all 
she  could.  Her  philosophy  for  once  stood  her  in 
good  stead.  There  was  nothing  more  to  be  done. 
She  was  dead  for  want  of  sleep.  The  sky  had  been 
slightly  overcast  since  she  had  left  the  yacht,  but 
there  had  been  no  storm,  and  weather  conditions 
looked  just  as  they  had  and  seemed  to  be  permanent. 
Taking  the  precaution  to  examine  the  gasoline 
tanks  and  finding  that  indeed  they  had  been  drained 
of  the  last  drop,  she  carefully  closed  and  locked 
them,  thereby  assuring  her  salvation,  and  spreading 
the  boat  cloak  in  the  stern  sheets  with  her  bag  for 
a  pillow  and  her  straw  hat  tied  over  her  face  to 
shield  it  from  the  sun,  she  instantly  dropped  to 
sleep. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

CAST     UP     BY     THE     SEA 

DAY  was  just  breaking  again  when  the  woman 
awoke.  Reference  to  her  watch,  which  she  had 
taken  the  precaution  to  wind  just  before  she  re 
tired,  disclosed  the  fact  that  it  was  four  o'clock  in 
the  morning.  She  had  slept  unbrokenly  since  eleven 
o'clock  the  morning  before.  Pier  sleep  had  been  a 
stupor  of  utter  and  complete  exhaustion.  Added  to 
the  tremendous  physical  strain  of  keeping  awake  and 
attending  to  the  duty  to  which  she  had  enforced  her 
self,  had  been  the  further  strain  of  the  terrible 
events  on  the  night  in  which  she  left  the  yacht,  and 
the  apprehension  of  pursuit,  which  had  been  con 
tinually  with  her.  Her  first  motion  indeed  was  to 
rise  to  her  feet  and  scan  the  horizon.  With  relief 
indescribable  her  scrutiny  discovered  nothing.  She 
was  still  alone.  Neither  the  yacht  nor  any  other 
vessel  nor  any  smallest  speck  of  land  was  silhouetted 
against  the  circling  skyline. 

In  her  satisfaction  she  did  not  stop  to  think  what 
her  loneliness,  her  failure  to  sight  land  or  ship,  might 
mean.  These  possibilities  were  all  obscured  by  the 
thrill  of  rapture  which  came  again  to  her  as  she 
thought  once  more  that  she  was  away  and  still  free. 

107 


108  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

If  her  life  were  drawing  to  a  close,  if  its  hours  were 
numbered,  at  least  she  could  spend  those  that  re 
mained  to  her  in  the  undisturbed  enjoyment  of  her 
own  philosophy.  She  had  not  put  curiosity  out  of 
her  constitution,  and,  being  a  woman,  she  wondered 
where  the  yacht  was,  what  was  happening,  whether 
the  man  were  alive  or  dead.  The  altruistic  side  of 
her  nature  was  in  abeyance.  At  the  thought  of  him 
she  locked  her  teeth  and  wished  the  worst.  Her  de 
sire  was  that  he  might  suffer  as  he  had  made  her 
suffer.  She  shrank  from  the  thought  of  his  touch. 
He  had  robbed  her  of  her  ideal,  of  her  trust,  of  her 
faith,  of  a  large  part  of  her  self-confidence,  of  her 
belief  in  her  own  teaching.  She  would  have  to 
struggle  to  get  these  back.  Alas,  he  had  robbed  her 
of  more  than  that,  and  the  extent  of  her  loss,  being 
what  she  was,  thinking  as  she  thought,  she  could 
not  yet  realize,  although  there  was  a  sub-conscious 
ness  of  it  beneath  her  other  cogitations.  She  fought 
it  down  and  drove  it  away,  but  it  came  back  again 
and  again. 

What  had  she  taken  from  him  in  exchange  for 
what  he  had  taken  from  her?  she  asked,  and  the 
answer  was,  nothing.  Under  the  spell  of  her  beauty 
and  her  charm,  he  had  assumed,  whether  deliberately 
or  otherwise,  virtues  that  he  did  not  possess,  opinions 
which  he  did  not  believe.  He  had  no  illusions  about 
the  matter,  and  had  not  been  bereft  of  a  single  hope 
or  aspiration.  And  yet  she  was  woman  enough, 


The  Ship  109 

while  she  raged  at  the  thought  of  his  possession  of 
her,  to  realize  that  his  failure  to  hold  her  might 
mean  a  great  deal  to  that  lower  nature  which  had  so 
completely  in  a  few  weeks  got  the  ascendency  of 
the  man  whom  she  had  fancied  that  she  loved. 

Her  whole  thought  of  him  now  was  concentrated 
into  intense  and  bitter  loathing  in  which,  in  part  at 
least,  she  included  herself.  It  showed  the  strength 
and  constancy  of  her  feelings,  the  intensity  of  her 
conviction,  that  what  she  had  been  taught  and  what 
she  had  taught  others  was  the  truth,  that  all  of  her 
philosophy  was  not  blown  out  into  the  Pacific  by 
the  wind  of  those  terribly  adverse  circumstances. 

She  sat  in  the  boat  musing  a  long  time  and  then 
woke  to  the  fact  that  she  was  hungry.  Again  she 
satisfied  her  appetite  sparingly  from  her  scanty  and 
rapidly  diminishing  store  of  food  and  drink,  and 
then,  putting  the  past  resolutely  behind  her,  hoping 
and  perhaps  fancying  by  some  exercise  of  her  will 
power  finally  she  could  put  it  behind  her  forever,  she 
gave  serious  thought  to  her  condition. 

Life  was  still  sweet  to  her,  the  future  still  pre 
sented  possibilities  to  her  inexperienced  mind,  and 
she  had  no  intention  of  giving  up  the  one  and  aban 
doning  hope  of  the  other  without  a  struggle.  In 
the  first  place,  she  had  only  the  vaguest  idea  of 
where  she  was — somewhere  in  the  South  Pacific 
Ocean.  Latitude  and  longitude  were  alike  unknown 
to  her.  In  the  first  two  or  three  weeks  of  the  cruise, 


no  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

when  the  relation  between  the  two  had  been  alto 
gether  lovely,  she  had  taken  deep  interest  in  the  daily 
run.  She  had  followed  the  course  of  the  yacht  day 
by  day,  and  had  seen  her  position  plotted  on  the 
various  charts  of  the  South  Seas,  but  in  the  last  two 
or  three  weeks  in  her  despair  she  had  paid  no  at 
tention  to  anything  but  her  misfortune,  and  she  had 
not  now  the  slightest  idea  of  her  whereabouts,  save 
that  she  was  far  south  of  the  equator  in  as  unknown 
waters  as  there  were  on  the  globe.  She  did  remem 
ber  having  heard  that  there  were  Islands  in  plenty 
in  these  waters,  and  she  recalled  having  passed  sev 
eral  in  the  yacht,  but  where  they  were  and  what  they 
were  she  did  not  know.  There  was  absolutely  noth 
ing  in  the  boat  which  would  give  her  any  clew.  She 
wished  now  that  she  had  not  been  so  precipitate  in 
her  flight;  that  the  shuddering  abhorrence  which 
filled  her  soul  at  the  sight  of  the  man  had  not  so 
moved  her  that  her  only  thought  had  been  to  get 
away,  and  she  barely  had  presence  of  mind  to  bring 
what  she  had  in  the  boat  with  her.  For  she  remem 
bered  that  there  were  books  on  the  South  Seas  in  the 
yacht  library,  and  some  of  them  contained  maps  and 
much  other  information. 

There  was  no  use  repining  over  the  fact  that  she 
did  not  have  them,  however;  nor  was  there  any  use 
in  repining  over  her  total  ignorance  of  her  where 
abouts.  She  realized  at  last  that  she  was  in  the 
hands — another  would  have  said  of  God;  she  said 


The  Ship  in 

of  chance.  The  fact  that  she  was  so  helpless;  that  all 
her  learning  and  all  her  training,  and  all  her  skill 
and  all  her  power  were  of  no  avail,  made  the  situa 
tion  the  more  galling.  Was  there  nothing  that  she 
could  do?  She  reflected  deeply,  and  as  she  did  so 
the  breeze  sprang  up.  She  judged  that  the  period 
during  which  she  had  slept  had  been  calm  and  still. 
Any  violent  rocking  of  the  boat  would  have  awak 
ened  her.  Indeed,  she  felt  bitterly  cramped  and  stiff 
from  having  lain  so  long  on  the  hard  floor,  which 
only  the  boat  cloak,  thick  and  heavy,  made  a  toler 
able  bed. 

The  coming  of  the  breeze  stimulated  her  imagina 
tion.  It  was  a  gentle  breeze.  She  noticed  that  it 
blew  from  the  direction  whence  she  had  come  by 
her  compass  course.  If  she  only  had  a  sail  of  some 
kind,  the  boat  would  be  driven  along.  She  must 
move  somewhere.  She  had  heard  of  ocean  currents 
and  drift,  but  she  doubted  whether  the  boat  was  mov 
ing,  at  least  sufficiently  fast  or  in  any  definite  direc 
tion  to  make  any  difference.  Unless  she  got  some 
where,  she  would  slowly  starve  and  die  just  where 
she  was.  She  stepped  forward  in  the  boat  and  ex 
amined  the  oars.  There  was  a  sort  of  a  deck 
forward  over  the  gasoline  tanks.  She  thought  that 
she  might  make  shift  with  the  remains  of  the  painter, 
of  which  she  had  a  good  length,  to  fasten  one  of 
the  oars  in  an  upright  position  against  this  deck. 
There  were  bolts  and  rings  of  various  sorts  on  this 


U2  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

forecastle.  She  could  step  the  handle  of  the  oar 
between  cleats  or  ribs  at  the  bottom.  At  least  she 
would  try. 

Her  training  had  not  been  manual,  but  she  was 
bright  enough  to  supplement  her  lack  of  skill,  and 
after  some  hours  of  hard  work  she  actually  got  one 
oar  in  an  upright  position  and  securely  lashed.  Out 
of  the  heavy  cloak — more  a  huge  circular  than  any 
thing  else — she  improvised  a  sail  with  the  other  oar 
as  a  boom  thrust  across  the  boat  between  the  mast 
and  the  little  forward  deck.  The  coat  had  been 
heavily  braided.  She  ripped  the  silk  braid  from  the 
edge,  cut  off  the  hood  of  the  cloak,  and  managed  a 
triangular  sail  laced  by  the  silk  braid  to  mast  and 
boom. 

The  boom  was  immobile,  and  the  only  way  she 
could  sail  was  straight  before  the  wind.  If  the  wind 
shifted,  she  would  shift  with  it.  She  had  some 
slight  control  over  the  vessel  with  the  helm,  but  that 
was  all.  It  was  noon  when  she  finished  her  labors, 
but  she  was  more  than  satisfied  with  what  she  had 
accomplished,  for  the  cloak  was  big  enough  to  give 
an  appreciable  way  to  the  boat.  She  guessed  it 
might  be  three  or  four  knots  an  hour.  That  would 
be  nearly  a  hundred  miles  a  day.  She  could  eke 
out  her  provisions  and  water  for  five  or  six  days 
longer,  and  she  could  go  without  for  two  or  three 
days  after  the  last  drop  and  morsel  had  vanished. 
Perhaps  she  might  run  down  a  habitable  island  in 


The  Ship  113 

that  time.  Possibly,  although  this  possibility  was 
more  faint  than  the  other,  she  might  be  seen  by 
some  vessel  and  picked  up.  At  any  rate,  all  she 
could  do  was  now  done.  She  felt  better,  too,  because 
she  had  made  a  human  contribution  to  the  determina 
tion  of  her  fate.  She  was  no  longer  absolutely  at 
the  play  of  chance — or  God ! 

For  five  days  she  sailed  steadily  on,  the  breeze 
remaining  even  and  holding  unvaryingly  true  for  that 
period.  She  learned  the  trick  of  lashing  the  wheel 
at  night,  and  so  was  able  to  take  as  much  rest  as  her 
tired,  worn,  and  racked  body  permitted  in  the  con 
finement  of  the  little  boat. 

She  had  abundance  of  time  for  thought.  Time 
was  when  she  had  reveled  in  such  opportunities, 
but  there  was  less  enjoyment  in  the  chances  afforded 
her  now.  That  she  who  had  lived  in  the  high  realms 
of  speculation  should  suddenly  become  a  woman  of 
action,  fighting  for  life,  struck  her  as  a  strange 
thing.  Insensibly  the  conditions  of  her  present  ex 
istence  modified  her  philosophy.  It  seemed  dif 
ferent,  a  smaller  thing.  She  was  less  sure  and  less 
confident  of  herself  alone  in  the  great  immensity 
than  in  the  crowded  city.  There  were  no  applaud 
ing  thousands.  She  breathed  no  air  of  adulation. 
She  was  alone  with  her  soul. 

The  man  who  is  thus  alone  is  always  face  to  face 
with  God,  though  his  eyes  may  be  holden  so  that 
he  cannot  see  the  divine.  It  was  so  with  this  woman. 


H4  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

Never  had  she  so  craved  other  companionship. 
She  would  have  been  happy  if  she  could  have  be 
lieved  that  there  was  a  God,  for  had  there  been  a 
God  she  would  not  have  felt  so  deserted.  So  she 
fought  on  against  her  soul  and  her  circumstances — 
a  losing  battle. 

The  sixth  day  opened  dark  and  gloomy.  The 
wind  had  risen  during  the  night.  The  day  broke 
heavily  overcast.  Even  to  her  inexperience  she  could 
realize  that  a  storm  was  at  hand.  She  had  seen  noth 
ing  during  the  period;  that  is,  nothing  of  which  she 
could  avail  herself.  Twice,  once  to  the  starboard 
and  another  time  to  port,  she  had  passed  low-lying 
islands,  dim  on  the  horizon.  She  had  no  way  of 
checking  the  boat  or  of  changing  its  course  to  run 
down  either  of  them.  She  had  to  go  on  just  as  she 
was.  She  realized  that  she  could  never  land  unless 
she  were  driven  directly  upon  some  island  that  might 
lie  in  her  course.  She  knew,  too,  that  the  chances 
that  might  happen  were  very  remote.  She  had 
daily  diminished  the  portion  of  food  and  drink  she  al 
lotted  to  herself.  She  had  husbanded  everything 
with  the  utmost  care.  On  the  sixth  day  they  were 
gone.  She  awoke  with  a  frightful  craving,  which 
was  greatly  intensified  as  the  day  drew  on. 

She  was  thankful  for  one  thing  that  the  sun  was 
veiled,  although  the  heat  in  the  humid,  heavy,  over 
cast  air  was  something  almost  unbearable.  Under 
the  freshening  breeze  the  boat  went  much  more 


The  Ship  115 

swiftly  than  heretofore.  She  had  that  satisfaction, 
but  she  had  the  apprehension  that  if  the  wind  grew 
any  stronger  her  sail,  serviceable  as  it  had  proved  and 
stout  as  it  was,  would  be  torn  to  pieces.  The  silk 
braid  had  done  splendid  service,  but  she  marked 
that  it  was  now  strained  to  the  breaking  point.  Again 
the  helplessness  of  her  position  came  upon  her.  She 
could  not  take  down  the  sail.  In  the  first  place  she 
was  afraid  to  leave  the  helm,  and  in  the  second  place 
she  realized  that  if  she  started  to  furl  it,  she  could 
only  do  it  by  cutting  the  lashing,  and  at  the  first  cut 
the  whole  thing  would  blow  away.  So  she  held  on. 
There  was  nothing  else  to  do. 

The  night  fell  in  a  burst  of  rain  which  was  most 
grateful  to  her,  but  which  was  a  forecast  of  a  fiercer 
blow,  and  at  midnight  the  hurricane  broke  in  full 
force  upon  the  little  boat.  The  first  blast  tore  the 
sail  from  the  lashings.  By  a  lightning  flash  she 
caught  a  glimpse  of  it  for  a  second,  whirled  away 
like  a  great  bird.  For  some  reason,  perhaps  because 
one  or  two  shreds  of  cloth  still  clung  to  the  mast 
and  perhaps  because  the  broad  blade  of  the  oar  of 
fered  some  surface  for  the  thrust  of  the  wind,  she 
was  able,  by  the  exercise  of  constant  vigilance  and 
all  the  strength  of  which  she  was  capable,  to  keep 
the  boat  before  the  wind.  Hitherto  she  had  had  no 
idea  of  the  violence  of  the  wave  motion.  It  wras  with 
difficulty  that  she  kept  herself  from  being  dashed  to 
pieces  against  the  sides  or  hurled  overboard  in  the 


n6  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

mad  whirling  and  plunging  to  which  the  launch  was 
suddenly  subjected.  It  was  caught  up  by  one  wave 
after  another  and  driven  on  for  hours.  She  could 
not  tell  how  long.  She  lost  all  consciousness  of  time 
and  of  everything  else,  except  that  she  must  cling 
to  the  helm.  The  boat  was  still  hurled  forward. 
One  great  wave  after  another  would  seize  her,  up 
lift  her  and  bear  her  on.  The  strain  upon  the 
woman's  arms  was  terrific.  She  locked  her  teeth 
and  hung  on,  breathless,  exhausted,  yet  determined. 

But  there  was  a  limit  to  her  powers,  and  she  felt 
that  it  had  been  reached.  Yet  she  did  not  deliberately 
let  go.  One  final  and  terrific  heave  jerked  her  away 
from  the  wheel.  She  fell  sprawling  in  the  bottom 
of  the  boat,  but  had  sense  enough  to  lock  her  hands 
around  a  thwart  and  lie  there.  The  launch  broached- 
to  in  an  instant.  She  was  turned  broadside  to  the 
waves.  Fortunately  she  did  not  capsize  instantly, 
and  the  next  breaker  filled  her.  She  lay,  her  gun 
wales  flush  with  the  water.  Her  motion  was  still 
violent,  but  less  jerky.  She  was  swept  ever  onward 
by  the  vast  undulations. 

The  indomitable  woman  clinging  to  the  thwart 
managed  to  keep  her  head  out  of  the  water.  She 
realized  that  this  was  the  end,  and  yet  while  she  had 
a  remainder  of  strength,  while  she  could  draw  a 
flickering  breath,  she  would  not  give  up.  The  boat, 
being  water-logged,  did  not  pitch  so  much  as  before, 


The  Ship  117 

and  she  was  able  to  maintain  her  hold,  although 
every  wave  that  broke  over  her  drenched  her  again 
and  again. 

She  wondered  why  the  boat  did  not  sink,  and  then 
she  realized  that  the  empty  gasoline  tanks  which  she 
had  closed  and  locked  prevented  the  final  catas 
trophe;,  that  the  boat  was  in  a  certain  sense  a  life 
boat;  that  it  would  float  so  long  as  the  water 
pressure  did  not  succeed  in  opening  the  tanks.  There 
fore,  she  was  for  the  moment  safe.  The  only  im 
mediate  danger  would  be  the  capsizing  of  the  boat, 
which  would  throw  her  out.  Since  the  launch  was  al 
ready  full  of  water,  the  woman  did  not  think  this 
was  likely  to  happen. 

She  held  on,  her  vitality  gradually  growing  weaker, 
hoping  for  the  morning  and  an  abatement  of  the 
storm.  She  had  no  idea  of  time,  of  course.  She 
could  not  tell  what  the  hour  was.  It  was  still  dark, 
however,  when  a  strange  sound  smote  her  ear.  She 
heard  it  above  the  wild  scream  of  the  wind  and  the 
awful  beat  of  the  waves.  It  was  a  crashing  sound, 
a  battering  sound,  a  fearful,  porentous  sound.  The 
boat  ran  forward  more  swiftly  now.  She  wondered 
the  reason.  Taking  advantage  of  a  brief  lull,  she 
abandoned  her  grip  on  the  thwart  and  rose  to  her 
knees.  Immediately  in  front  of  her  she  saw  a  white 
wall  disclosed  to  her  by  the  lightning  flashes.  She 
did  not  know  what  it  was.  The  roaring  sound  came 


n8  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

from  thence.  She  was  being  borne  rapidly  toward 
it.  She  was  nearing  it  with  astonishing  swiftness. 
The  boat  was  moving  more  quickly  now  than  at  any 
time  since  she  had  been  in  it.  At  last  it  broke  upon 
her  consciousness  that  the  white  wall  was  a  mass 
of  foam;  that  the  sea  was  crashing  against  some  hid 
den  shore  and  that  great  breakers  were  there. 

The  land  that  she  had  longed  for  indeed  lay 
athwart  her  course.  In  another  moment  she  would 
be  in  that  mass  of  boiling  foam.  Well,  she  had 
fought  a  good  fight.  The  end  was  at  hand.  With 
some  instinct  of  the  heroic  she  resolved  that  death 
would  not  find  her  lying  down.  Desperately  she 
struggled  to  her  feet  and  stood  balancing  herself 
to  the  wild  onward  rush  of  the  boat.  The  wall  of 
foam  was  close  at  hand.  For  one  second  she  threw 
out  her  arms,  and  the  next  moment,  with  a  crash 
which  she  could  feel  if  not  hear,  the  boat  beneath 
her  feet  was  lifted  up  and  hurled  on  something  fear 
fully  solid.  She  was  thrown  through  the  air  like 
a  bolt  from  a  catapult.  A  wave  struck  her  in  the 
back  and  beat  her  almost  into  insensibility.  She  was 
tossed  and  driven,  half-unconscious,  over  a  space  of 
shallow  water  and  rolling  sea  upon  a  sandy  shore. 
Some  instinct  of  life  gave  her  motion.  Blindly  she 
crawled  on.  The  waves  seemed  suddenly  to  have 
lost  their  power.  She  did  not  know  that  she  had 
been  thrown  past  a  barrier  reef  and  carried  over  a 


The  Ship  119 

lagoon  and  dropped  on  a  sea  beach;  that  only  the 
most  unusual  and  gigantic  waves  could  reach  her; 
but  she  knew  that  they  had  little  power  to  harm  her. 
And  so  she  crept  desperately  and  doggedly  on  until 
she  fell  forward  in  the  warm  sand  and  lapsed  into 
absolute  and  total  unconsciousness. 


BOOK   III 
THE   REVELATION 


CHAPTER   IX 

LATENT    PASSIONS 

THE  three  years  which  had  elapsed  had  made  a 
vast  change  in  the  relations  between  the  man  and  the 
woman.  In  the  beginning  and  for  a  long  time  hers 
had  been  the  dominant  position.  So  absolutely  had 
she  ruled  that  to  him  she  had  been  as  a  god.  So 
entirely  had  he  obeyed  that  to  her  he  had  been  as  a 
devotee.  Once  she  discovered  his  ductility  and  had 
begun  to  teach  him,  the  relationships  had  commenced 
to  change.  Gradually  each  had  recognized  the 
humanity  of  the  other.  Together  students,  they  had 
naturally  approached  a  common  level.  Every  new 
knowledge  she  imparted  to  him  was  an  abdication 
of  some  of  her  supremacy.  Every  new  knowledge 
he  acquired  was  an  aspiration  to  her  high  level. 

Three  years  is  a  short  time  in  the  educational  life 
of  a  human  being,  but  she  brought  to  her  side  of 
what  was  slowly  developing  into  an  equation  the 
highest  training,  a  natural  ability  to  impart  what 
she  knew,  an  absolute  devotion  to  the  endeavor,  and 
an  entire  freedom  from  other  interests.  So  fascinat 
ing  had  the  experiment  been  that  she  had  scarcely 
missed  the  rest  of  the  world.  Had  he  been  a  woman 

123 


124  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

instead  of  a  man,  would  that  absorption  have  re 
sulted  from  their  intercourse? 

On  his  part  he  brought  to  bear  upon  the  problem 
of  learning,  it  was  soon  developed,  an  intellect  which, 
although  entirely  untrained,  was  unusually  acute,  a 
faculty  of  acquiring  knowledge  as  great  as  was  her 
ability  to  impart  it,  and  a  reasoning  capacity  which 
kept  pace  with  his  other  qualities.  Indeed,  the  main 
thing  with  which  she  had  to  contend  at  first  was  his 
lack  of  application.  But  so  soon  as  he  had  learned 
enough  to  enable  him  to  realize  the  importance  of 
learning  more,  she  had  no  trouble  on  that  score.  It 
was  as  if  a  mature  mind  had  been  confronted  with 
the  hard  problems  of  adolescence.  He  grappled 
with  things  in  that  way.  Whatever  she  taught  him, 
he  learned,  he  mastered;  all  that  he  mastered  in 
spired  him  to  learn  more.  His  mnemonic  ability 
was  prodigious;  for  all  the  years  of  his  life  he  had 
not  been  storing  up  the  insignificant,  the  immaterial, 
the  unnecessary  in  his  brain  cells.  He  remembered 
all  that  she  taught  him  with  unvarying  accuracy. 
His  was  a  powerful,  vigorous  mentality  which  had 
known  nothing  and  upon  which  she  wrote  what  she 
pleased.  To  the  judgment  of  a  man  he  added  the 
receptivity  and  ductility  of  a  child. 

She  had  taught  him  first  of  all  to  speak  and  then 
to  read,  then  rudimentary  mathematics  such  as  he 
could  do  in  his  head.  There  was  nothing  that  she 
could  devise  that  was  practicable  for  writing.  There 


The  Revelation  125 

was  no  slate  on  the  island,  the  rock  was  not  suitable. 
Therefore  he  had  never  learned  to  write,  although 
he  knew  what  writing  was,  for  she  had  explained  it 
to  him,  and  had  made  shift  to  teach  him  the  Arabic 
letters.  She  also  taught  him  geography,  astronomy, 
natural  sciences,  and,  above  all,  history.  She  unfolded 
the  kingdoms  of  this  world  and  the  glory  of  them 
before  his  vision,  touching  lightly,  as  has  been  the 
fashion  of  such  unfolders,  upon  the  misery  and  the 
shame.  His  was  a  singular  knowledge  indeed.  There 
were  some  things  about  which  she  was  reticent,  and 
some  things  she  could  not  tell  him  at  all,  being  a 
woman;  but  being  a  man,  with  imagination  quick 
ened,  he  thought  of  these  things  the  more — for  these 
were  some  of  the  deeper  things  of  life,  and  nature! 

But  the  change  in  the  relations  between  the  two 
was  not  greater  than  the  change  in  the  woman  her 
self.  She  was  no  longer  a  philosopher.  That  which 
she  had  disdained,  she  admired;  that  which  she  had 
abhorred,  she  loved;  that  which  she  had  refused, 
she  accepted.  She  was  a  Christian  in  belief  at  least. 
Alone,  or  practically  so,  face  to  face  with  God  in 
His  world,  God  in  His  Book,  God  in  humanity,  her 
specious  ideas  of  life  and  her  relationship  to  it  had 
broken  down.  She  had  learned  to  kneel  beside  that 
man  and  pray.  She  had  learned  to  seek  elsewhere 
than  in  herself  for  power  to  enable  her  to  live  her 
life  and  fulfill  her  tasks. 

She  had  not  wished  to  be  a  Christian-     She  had 


126  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

fought  against  it,  struggled  with  it,  agonized  over 
it,  but  a  compelling  necessity  was  upon  her.  The 
convictions  of  her  conversion  tore  the  veil  from  be 
fore  her  face,  dispelled  the  mist  that  hung  about  her. 
She  saw  herself  as  she  was,  a  woman  who,  under  the 
influence  of  wrong  ideas,  false  conceptions,  had 
branded  herself  forever.  No,  not  in  the  eyes  of  that 
God  whom  she  had  learned  to  fear,  not  in  the  eyes 
of  that  Christ  whom  she  had  learned  to  love,  but 
in  the  eyes  of  men;  yet  she  was  a  woman  who  was 
pure  in  heart.  Perhaps  these  thoughts  and  this 
consciousness  had  more  to  do  with  keeping  her  con 
tent  even  than  her  intense  preoccupation  in  her  man 
and  her  work,  for  she  realized  what  she  would  have 
to  face  if  she  went  back  to  the  world  which  had 
mocked  her  while  it  applauded  her.  That  world, 
therefore,  she  now  began  to  fear. 

The  one  being  upon  earth  with  whom  she  could 
associate,  who  knew  nothing  about  it,  who  could  cast 
no  stone  at  her,  was,  she  realized,  the  man  whom  she 
had  made;  and  this  man  looked  to  her  almost  as  men 
look  to  the  divine.  Yet  she  felt  that  some  day  he 
would  have  to  know.  Some  day  she  would  have 
to  tell  him.  What  then?  That  feeling  was  ever 
with  her.  She  constantly  asked  herself  that  question, 
and  found  no  answer. 

Indeed,  it  was  he  who  had  taught  her  the  truth 
of  Christ.  At  first  she  had  not  been  able,  she  had 
felt  a  strange  unwillingness,  if  indeed  it  were  pos- 


The  Revelation  127 

sible,  to  break  down  the  lingering  remains  of  faith 
in  that  man.  That  babble  of  childish  prayer  had 
in  some  strange  way  caught  her  heart  strings.  It 
was  the  one  memory  of  intelligence  that  had  re 
mained  to  him.  Now  that  he  was  capable  of  ex 
pression,  that  his  mind  had  been  born  again,  over 
and  over  he  had  told  her  of  the  dim  returning  re 
collection  of  a  long  voyage  in  an  open  boat  with  a 
woman  and  some  animal,  which  she  knew  must  be 
the  dog.  He  could  remember  nothing  of  the  in 
tercourse  between  him  and  that  woman  except  that 
she  had  been  good  to  him — sometimes  that  is  as 
much  as  the  wisest  recall  of  a  mother — and  that  she 
had  taught  him  and  made  him  say  always  that  prayer 
whose  coherency  and  meaning,  to  her  intense  sur 
prise,  she  found  herself  imparting  to  him.  And  she 
could  not  make  up  her  mind  to  take  from  him  the 
reality  of  the  only  recollection  that  remained  to 
him. 

Her  new  belief,  as  has  been  said,  was  both  joy 
and  sorrow  to  her.  Save  for  her  experience  in  the 
ship,  she  had  been  happier  in  her  philosophy.  She 
had  suffered  grievously  through  her  trust  in  it  and 
in  man,  but  her  consciousness  that  she  was  funda 
mentally  right  in  her  beliefs  had  consoled  her.  Now 
to  feel  that  she  had  been  wrong,  that  she  had  thrown 
away  under  the  leading  of  a  false  light  what  she 
could  never  regain — ah,  no  Magdalene  ever  wept 
bitterer  tears  at  the  feet  of  Jesus  than  this  woman  in 


128  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

her  hours  of  solitude  over  her  mistaken  past,  her 
loss  and  shame. 

She  had  hours  of  solitude,  too.  Early  in  the  life 
they  lived  she  had  laid  down  certain  regulations. 
He  was  in  the  formative  period  then  and  had  un 
hesitatingly  acquiesced  in  them.  So  far  those  regula 
tions  neither  had  been  abrogated  by  her  nor  broken 
by  him.  A  cave  upon  the  farther  side  of  the  island 
had  been  found,  and  that  was  his  home.  They  break 
fasted  together  at  a  certain  hour,  which  he  told 
by  means  of  the  sun  and  she  by  her  faithful  watch. 
The  morning  was  spent  in  study.  In  the  afternoon 
they  separated,  each  passing  it  in  accordance  with 
individual  preference,  but  he  rigorously  kept  to  his 
side  and  she  to  her  side  of  the  island  during  the 
period.  Certain  dividing  lines,  clearly  established 
and  understood,  marked  which  was  his  and  which 
was  hers.  At  suppertime  they  met  again  and  passed 
the  hours  together  in  conversation  until  the  rest 
period  arrived.  Things  had  to  be  this  way  else  life 
would  have  been  unendurable.  They  lived  on  the 
natural  products  of  the  island,  which  were  varied 
and  sufficiently  abundant  to  fulfill  all  dietetic  re 
quirements. 

She  had  also  taught  him  things  not  learned  from 
books.  Among  them,  truth,  honor,  duty,  and 
dignity — all  the  virtues.  Her  instruction  had  been 
originally  ethical  merely — first  that  which  was 
natural! — but  afterward  it  had  grown  spiritual. 


The  Revelation  129 

Unspotted  from  the  world  he,  and  she  washed  white 
she  hoped  and  prayed  in  spite  of  the  spots,  they 
lived  a  life  of  pristine  innocence.  Yet  because  he 
was  a  man  and  she  was  a  woman,  strange  fires 
glowed  beneath  the  outward  calm,  strange  ideas  and 
desires  and  thoughts  rose  from  both  hearts.  This 
was  inevitable.  Her  original  relation  to  the  man 
had  been  one  of  so  great  superiority  as  to  be  fatal 
to  the  early  development  of  any  feeling  but  the 
maternal.  Even  now  she  possessed  the  superiority 
which  association  with  her  kind,  her  longer  training 
and  her  greater  opportunities,  had  given  her.  And 
yet  she  could  only  recognize  that  to  the  impartial 
view,  considering  his  abilities  and  opportunities,  he 
stood  quite  on  a  level  with  her.  Perhaps,  had  he 
enjoyed  her  chances,  he  might  have  stood  higher. 

She  began  to  idealize  him,  to  dream  about  him,  to 
wonder.  She  trembled  on  the  verge  of  passion. 
She  knew  his  to  be  a  brilliant  mind.  She  divined 
his  to  be  a  knightly  soul.  Physically,  in  face  and 
figure  no  more  splendid  man,  untrammeled  by  base 
convention,  ever  stood  upon  the  earth's  surface. 
Grace  and  strength  mingled  in  a  harmony  that  was 
as  striking  as  it  was  full  of  charm.  She  had 
no  opportunity  to  test  his  courage,  for  no  physical 
danger  ever  menaced  them.  But  she  believed 
in  his  manhood  thoroughly.  The  life  they  led 
was  absolutely  idyllic.  It  was  a  life  that  might 
have  been  lived  in  some  serpentless  Eden.  No 


130  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

manifestation  of  the  powers  of  nature  had  ever  per 
turbed  him  in  the  slightest  degree,  she  had  observed. 
The  island  was  sometimes  visited  by  the  most  ter 
rific  storms,  which  were  quite  appalling  to  her,  but 
which  he  endured  calmly.  Once  she  had  had  the 
curiosity  to  take  his  pulse  during  one  tremendous 
cataclysm,  and  its  ordinary  rate  was  not  accelerated 
by  a  single  beat.  His  mind,  too,  was  as  sweet  and 
fresh  as  a  girl's.  Indeed,  it  could  hardly  be  other 
wise.  Whatever  was  in  it  she  had  put  there.  No, 
not  quite  that,  but  she  had  put  the  seed  of  whatever 
was  in  it,  and  what  had  been  developed  from  it  had 
been  due  to  himself. 

The  woman  had  had  bitter  experience  with  love. 
Following  what  she  believed  to  be  the  highest  in 
spiration,  she  had  wrecked  her  life  and  brought  her 
self  to  this  pass.  The  revolt  in  her  soul  at  the 
thought  of  the  man  who  had  so  degraded  her,  or 
who  had  so  taken  advantage  of  her  ignorance  and 
innocence — the  more  complete  since  they  were  cov 
ered  by  a  confidence  of  knowledge  and  sophistication 
— as  to  allow  her  to  degrade  herself,  convinced  her 
that  what  she  had  mistaken  for  divine  light  was  only 
a  false  fire,  an  ignis  fatuus  which  had  led  her  into  the 
marsh  and  slough  of  slime  and  shame.  She  loathed 
the  thought  of  that  man.  She  had  loathed,  when 
she  had  been  thrown  upon  that  island,  the  thought 
of  all  men.  This  one  had  given  back  her  confidence 
in  her  kind.  Yet  sometimes  she  wondered  whether 


The  Revelation  131 

that  confidence  were  warranted  or  not  because  of 
him.  Suppose  he  should  come  in  touch  with  the 
world,  what  would  happen?  Was  he,  too,  capable 
of  breaking  a  woman's  heart?  Would  he  do  it? 
Was  hers  the  heart?  What  would  the  soiling  touch 
of  the  sordid  conditions  under  which  life  was  lived 
as  she  had  known  it  do  for  him?  Would  he  still  re 
main  unspotted?  Would  he  think  her  the  same? 
She  had  taught  him  many  things.  But  how  should 
he  learn  to  fight  temptations — temptations  with 
which  he  had  no  experience,  which  ever  came  to 
him,  she  fondly  dreamed. 

Yet  she  had  confidence  in  him.  She  had  con 
fidence  in  God;  and  we  cannot  have  confidence  in 
God  without  some  confidence  in  man.  The  converse, 
too,  is  true.  Therefore  she  believed.  She  was  con 
fident  that  he  would  rise  supreme  in  the  face  of  every 
test.  She  wondered  if  the  test  would  ever  be  applied 
to  him,  if  she  would  be  there  to  see.  She  found 
herself  praying  for  affirmation  in  both  matters. 
Her  belief  in  him  would  only  be  belief  founded  upon 
hope  until  he  had  been  tried.  There  was  a  doubt 
about  him  that  must  be  resolved ;  she  must  resolve  it. 
She  could  never  be  satisfied,  in  spite  of  her  belief, 
until  she  had  done  so.  The  very  fact  that  she 
thought  so  keenly  upon  the  subject,  that  she  was  so 
interested  and  engrossed  in  the  situation,  was  evi 
dence  to  her  that  she  cared  more  for  the  man  than 
she  had  dreamed  it  possible. 


132  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

Indeed,  how  could  it  be  otherwise?  The  primal 
instinct  of  humanity,  by  and  through  which  the  race 
persists,  is  to  mate,  and  love  is  the  motive  of  the 
mating  if  it  is  to  be  real  and  actual  and  holy.  Any 
woman  under  such  circumstances  might  be  expected 
to  draw  toward  any  man ;  the  much  more  she  to  such 
a  man  as  he. 

And  so  in  her  hours  to  herself  she  dreamed  of  him 
and  of  some  future,  and  of  that  great  test  some  day 
to  be  made.  Alas,  it  was  rushing  toward  them  with 
a  swiftness  beyond  imagination,  of  which  she  had 
not  the  faintest  idea.  She  had  often  thought  that 
they  might  stay  upon  that  island  forever;  that  there 
they  might  live  and  die.  And  she  had  had,  too, 
deeper,  stranger  thoughts  as  to  what  might  be  in 
that  contingency.  Should  they  live  forever  apart? 
Could  there  be  no  marriage  between  them  in  the 
sight  of  heaven?  Was  life  and  all  that  it  held  for 
men  and  women  to  be  forever  denied?  What  would 
keep  them  apart?  And  yet  she  had  trampled  upon 
convention  once,  with  frightful  consequences.  Be 
cause  of  that  she  could  not  do  it  again.  She  was 
not  free,  but  fettered  by  her  past.  She  would  sit, 
not  calmly,  but  of  necessity,  and  arrange  the  future 
and  her  destiny,  forgetful  of  the  fact  that  she  was 
no  longer  the  sole  factor  of  determination.  She  no 
longer  thought  much  about  the  yacht  and  the  other 
man,  and  yet  she  had  wondered  at  first  why  no  search 
had  been  made  for  her.  But  as  the  days  and  weeks 


The  Revelation  133 

and  months  sped  away  and  she  remained  undisturbed 
in  her  new-found  Elysium,  she  had  come  to  regard 
it  as  an  accepted  thing  that  she  had  dropped  out  of 
existence  and  had  been  forgot.  And  so  she  loved 
and  hoped  and  dreamed. 

And  what  of  him?  For  once  her  intuition  failed 
her.  She  wanted  to  see  him  tested  and  tried;  she 
wanted  to  see  him  tempted  and  triumphant;  but  he 
was  all  of  that  in  those  very  hours  in  which  she 
fancied  him  so  unthinking.  It  never  occurred  to  her 
that  he  might  entertain  an  earthly  passion  for  her. 
She  still,  from  ancient  habit,  believed  herself  so  far 
above  him  that  such  an  ambition  would  have  been 
little  less  than  sacrilege  to  him.  She  lulled  herself 
to  sleep  with  that  idea.  She  believed,  she  knew,  of 
course,  that  all  that  was  needed  was  a  suggestion 
from  her.  To  love  is  the  lot  of  man.  This  man 
had  seen  no  other  being  than  her.  If  she  said  the 
word,  it  would  be  accomplished.  She  held  the  only 
key  to  his  heart;  her  hand  could  unlock  it  on  the  in 
stant.  She  forgot  the  master  key  and  the  Master 
Hand. 

He  had  controlled  that  strange  trembling  that 
used  to  take  him  whenever  he  touched  her,  but  she 
could  feel  his  pulses  beat  and  throb  when  by  chance 
there  was  any  contact,  even  of  the  casual,  between 
them.  Sometimes  he  had  asked  her  strange  ques 
tions  which  she  had  put  by,  and  sometimes  she 
caught  him  looking  at  her  in  strange  ways  that  sent 


134  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

the  blood  to  her  skin  and  sometimes  turned  her  pale. 
Yet  she  lived  in  the  fool's  Paradise.  She  did  not 
awake  to  the  possibilities  of  that  which  she  had  made 
him  because  her  apprehension  of  him  had  not  kept 
pace  with  his  apprehension  of  her.  To  her  he  was 
still  in  some  degree  the  creature  that  he  had  been, 
and  sometimes  she  thought  upon  her  growing  love 
for  him  with  a  feeling  of  shame,  as  if  it  were  a  con 
descension,  a  derogation. 

She  did  not  know  what  blood  was  leaping  in  the 
veins  of  the  man,  and  how  he  taught  himself,  be 
cause  she  had  instilled  in  him  honor  and  decency  and 
Christlike  self-control,  to  repress  these  things.  She 
did  not  know  how  much  faster  he  had  learned  cer 
tain  things  than  she  had  intended.  She  did  not 
know  how  instinctively  he  had  leaped  to  conclusions 
which  she  imagined  were  still  latent  in  his  mind. 
This  was  a  good  man,  this  was  an  honest  man,  this 
was  a  gentleman,  this  was  a  Christian  man.  There 
was  no  question  about  his  faith.  It  was  as  simple 
and  abiding  as  it  was  sincere.  The  early  Christians 
who  had  been  brought  in  personal  touch  with  the 
Master  and  His  men  were  not  more  faithful,  accept- 
ant,  and  devoted.  Yet  this  was  a  very  human  man 
in  spite  of  all  these  things,  a  man  of  splendid  vigor 
and  health,  with  all  a  man's  impulses,  hopes,  dreams, 
and  aspirations.  And  he  loved  her. 

He,  too,  sat  upon  the  white  sands  of  the  gemlikc 
island  and  looked  out  into  the  far  blue  of  the  Pacific 


The  Revelation  135 

washing  the  distant  shores  and  lands  peopled  with 
strange  creatures  of  history  and  romance,  and  he, 
too,  wondered.  He  had  had  no  experience  with 
men  and  the  world,  and  he  longed  to  get  away  and 
to  take  her  away. 

She  had  long  since  discovered  that  he  was  a  gen 
tleman,  an  innate  gentleman;  that  he  had  been  well 
born,  and  she  had  seen  to  it  herself  that  he  had  been 
well  bred.  Yet  no  mortal  man  ever  went  through 
greater  fires  of  unknown  and  mysterious  temptations 
than  he.  He  forced  himself  not  to  speak  words 
that  burned.  He  checked  the  free  course  of 
thoughts  that  bubbled  and  seethed  within  his  brain, 
and  the  relationship  between  them  remained  that  of 
mistress  and  man,  teacher  and  taught,  friend  and 
friend.  It  was  he  who  so  maintained  it,  though  of 
this  she  was  unaware. 

And  he,  too,  longed  for  some  hour  to  come  when 
he  might  with  right  and  decency  and  dignity  speak 
the  words  which  some  day  he  must  speak  or  die. 
He  was  not  versed  in  the  ways  of  women.  He  had 
no  store  of  knowledge,  no  lesson  of  experience  to  fall 
back  upon.  He  knew  but  one  woman.  He  could 
not  predicate  from  any  petty  maxim,  or  from  any 
ancient  aphorism,  or  from  any  worn-out  philosophy, 
what  she  would  or  would  not  do  under  certain  con 
ditions.  Indeed,  he  only  thought  that  he  loved  her, 
and  he  must  tell  her  or  die  in  the  concealment. 

And  so  matters  ran  on  and  on.     It  needed  but  a 


136  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

spark  to  ignite  the  powder,  it  would  have  seemed, 
and  yet  a  vast  cataclysm  of  nature  only  brought 
about  the  explosion.  He  had  never  touched  her  ex 
cept  to  take  her  hand.  Her  person  had  been  as  in 
violate  to  him  as  if  she  had  been  a  star  above  his 
head.  And  she  had  been  careful  under  no  circum 
stances  to  allow  more  than  that.  Their  hands  had 
clasped  often.  Indeed,  with  every  "  Good-night " 
and  "  Good-morning  "  the  circuit  of  touch  was  made 
and  broken,  but  that  was  all.  They  usually  parted 
at  night,  on  the  sands  where  she  had  first  been 
thrown  ashore.  He  would  stand  and  watch  her  as 
she  glided  away  from  him  in  the  darkness  toward 
the  cave  that  was  her  home.  She  had  impressed 
upon  him  how  she  trusted  him,  the  absolute  assur 
ance,  the  entire  confidence,  she  had  that  he  would 
respect  the  agreement  between  them;  and  he  would 
have  died  rather  than  have  transgressed  the  law, 
stepped  over  that  imaginary  barrier,  as  potent  as  the 
circle  of  Richelieu,  which  kept  them  apart. 

And  yet  she  would  never  know  what  horrible  con 
straint  he  put  upon  himself;  how  he  stood  with 
clenched  hands  and  quivering  body  and  stared  after 
her  long  after  she  had  gone.  She  would  never  know 
how  that  intensity  of  longing  grew  and  grew  until 
sometimes  he  felt  that  he  could  not  overmaster  it. 
She  would  never  know  how  he  plunged  away,  stag 
gering  through  the  woods,  and  threw  himself  down 
upon  the  sands  on  his  side  of  the  island,  disdaining 


The  Revelation  137 

even  the  rude  shelter  of  the  cave  which  was  his 
home,  and  fought  it  out.  Sometimes  she  saw  evi 
dences  of  internal  conflict  in  his  soul  the  next  morn 
ing.  The  calm  serenity,  the  indifference,  the  animal- 
like  satisfaction  with  which  he  had  faced  life  when 
she  first  knew  him  had  long  since  disappeared. 
There  were  deepening  lines  upon  his  face  which  told 
of  thought,  of  struggle,  and  of  character  thus  de 
veloped  by  these  two  potent  factors  in  shaping 
human  destiny. 

And  he  could  never  know  what  was  in  her  mind, 
either.  He  never  dreamed  that  she  could  love  him. 
She  was  so  far  above  him,  so  supreme  in  his  eyes, 
that  the  possibility  never  occurred  to  him.  If  he 
had  known  for  a  moment  how  she  thought  of  him, 
the  great  passion  in  both  hearts  would  have  over 
leaped  every  obstacle  and  in  a  moment  he  would 
have  had  her  in  his  arms.  Well  indeed  it  is  that  the 
power  to  read  human  hearts  is  reserved  for  the 
Mind  which  towers  above  human  passions  because 
it  is  divine. 

And  so  these  two,  while  drawing  together  as  in 
evitably  and  as  irresistibly  as  the  tide  comes  in,  were 
still  kept  apart.  Their  feelings  were  in  solution,  as 
it  were.  A  precipitant  must  be  thrown  into  the  at 
mosphere  in  which  they  moved  and  lived  and  had 
their  being  to  disclose  them  to  each  other. 

On  one  certain  balmy  summer  night  they  parted 
as  usual.  Was  the  handclasp  longer,  was  the  glance 


138  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

with  which  he  peered  at  her  under  the  moonlight 
more  self-revealing  than  usual?  Did  something  in 
his  own  breast  call  to  the  surface  that  which  beat 
around  her  heart?  At  any  rate,  it  was  with  a  great 
effort  that  she  tore  herself  away  at  last,  and  for  the 
first  time  in  his  life,  although  she  knew  it  not,  he 
followed  after  her  with  a  few  noiseless  steps,  only  to 
stop,  his  face  white  in  the  moonlight,  drops  of  sweat 
beading  his  brow  from  the  violence  of  his  effort. 
Having  transgressed  even  to  that  degree  the  law,  he 
turned  instantly,  without  waiting  to  watch  her  dis 
appear  around  the  jutting  crag  that  marked  the  little 
amphitheater  where  she  slept,  and  went  to  his  own 
side  of  the  island  resolutely,  without  another  mo 
ment's  hesitation  or  delay. 


CHAPTER   X 

HEARTS  AWAKENED 

FOR  the  moment  she  forgot  where  she  was  and 
fancied  herself  back  on  the  ship  or,  more  naturally, 
tossing  about  in  that  small  boat  after  that  long, 
eventful  voyage.  Yet  no  motion  to  which  she  had 
ever  been  subjected,  not  even  in  the  wildest  pitch  of 
the  storm  which  had  finally  cast  her  away,  produced 
in  her  such  strange  emotions  as  she  experienced  then. 
For  the  earth  itself  was  trembling,  quivering,  rock 
ing.  The  cave  wall  above  her,  seen  dimly  by  the 
filtering  light  of  very  early  dawn  which  came 
through  the  openings,  partook  of  the  mad,  fantastic 
motion.  In  another  second  she  realized  that  it  was 
an  earthquake.  The  air  seemed  filled  with  a 
peculiar  ringing  sound  of  storm. 

Her  bed,  of  course,  was  the  soft  sand  over  which 
grass  had  been  strewn.  She  lay,  therefore,  on  the 
floor  and  could  not  be  thrown  down,  but  she  was 
rolled  from  side  to  side  in  a  way  which  paralyzed 
her  senses.  Never  in  all  her  experience  had  she 
known  such  a  sick  feeling  of  terror.  When  the 
foundations  of  things  are  shaken,  when  not  merely 
the  great  deep  but  the  solid  earth  is  broken  up, 
humanity  stands  as  if  in  the  very  presence  of  God. 

139 


140  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

She  lay  resistless,  staring,  praying,  wondering 
whether  the  shaking  rock  over  her  head  would  fall 
and  crush  her. 

In  a  moment  the  instinct  of  life  quickened  her  to 
action.  She  rose  to  her  knees,  staggered  to  her  feet 
and  tried  to  make  her  way  to  the  entrance.  Walk 
ing  was  terrible.  The  earth  seemed  to  have  shaken 
for  hours,  and  yet  the  duration  of  the  shock  was 
really  less  than  a  minute.  Its  violence  was  terrific. 
Just  before  she  reached  the  opening,  it  stopped  with 
one  tremendous  shock,  as  suddenly  as  it  had  begun. 
The  next  second,  with  a  roar  that  sounded  in  her 
ears  like  a  thousand  pieces  of  artillery,  the  gray, 
hazy  light  in  front  of  her  was  blotted  out  by  a  fall 
ing  mass  of  rock  which  just  escaped  her.  The  face 
of  the  cliff  had  given  away.  In  deeper,  intenser 
terror  than  before  she  threw  herself  against  the 
barrier.  It  was  as  hard  and  as  unyielding  as  the 
other  walls.  No  light  came  to  her  even.  She  was 
imprisoned  alive  in  this  rocky  sepulcher.  She  sank 
down  on  her  knees  and  buried  her  face  in  her  hands. 
She  murmured  words  of  prayer. 

Her  mind  flew  to  the  other  side  of  the  island,  to 
the  Man.  Was  he,  too,  entombed?  Was  this  the 
end  of  her  labors?  Outside  she  could  hear  the  wind 
roar  and  the  waves  thundering  with  awful  violence 
on  the  shore.  Before  the  earthquake,  had  come  the 
storm.  There  was  still  some  connection  between 


The  Revelation  141 

the  cave  and  the  outer  air,  it  seemed,  for  she  was 
now  conscious  of  lightning  flashes.  After  the  storm, 
came  the  fire.  Her  mind  went  back  to  what  she  had 
read  from  the  Bible  a  few  days  before  of  Elijah's 
despair.  Therefore  in  like  case  she  listened  with 
all  her  heart  for  the  still  small  voice  of  comfort  to 
her  awestruck  soul.  It  did  not  seem  to  come.  She 
was  doomed;  she  would  never  see  him  again,  if  in 
deed  he  were  yet  alive.  She  knew  her  feeling  for 
him  now.  She  slipped  forward  and  fell  fainting  on 
the  sandy  floor  of  the  cave.  And  still  the  voice  was 
there.  Presently  it  came  to  her  as  the  voice  of  God 
usually  comes  to  humanity,  through  the  lips  of  man. 
After  a  space,  how  long  after  she  could  not  tell, 
she  was  conscious  of  a  human  cry  through  the  wild 
clamor  of  the  tempest.  A  voice  that  she  knew  and 
loved  was  calling  her  by  name.  Was  it  some  wraith- 
like  fancy  of  the  storm?  She  rose  to  her  knees,  sick 
and  faint,  and  listened.  No,  it  was  a  human  voice, 
his  voice,  her  name.  The  cry  was  fraught  with  frantic 
appeal.  It  thrilled  and  vibrated  with  passion.  It  told 
her  even  in  that  awful  moment  a  story  which  she 
had  not  read.  It  revealed  to  her  imaginations  of 
which  she  had  not  dreamed.  She  was  fascinated 
with  what  she  heard.  She  forgot  for  the  moment 
to  answer.  All  the  woman  in  her,  the  eternal 
feminine  in  her,  listened.  Her  bosom  rose  and  fell, 
her  heart  throbbed,  her  pulses  beat.  Alone  with  that 


142  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

wild,  passionate,  appealing,  frantic  cry,  she  forgot 
the  earthquake,  she  forgot  the  prison,  she  forgot  the 
storm,  she  forgot  the  world.  She  only  realized  that 
there  out  in  the  dawn,  a  man,  the  man  of  all  the 
world,  who  loved  her,  was  calling  her  name.  The 
old  call  of  manhood  to  womanhood,  of  mate  to 
mate. 

She  rose  instantly  to  her  feet.  This  time  it  was 
the  beating  of  her  heart  that  pitched  and  tossed  her 
body.  She  leaned  against  the  rock  wall  and  then 
she  called  his  name. 

"  Man,"  she  cried,  "are  you  safe?" 

"  Yes,"  was  the  answer.     "  And  you?  " 

"  Entirely  so,  save  for  this  prison." 
'  Thank  God !  "  came  faintly  to  her  from  beyond 
the  wall.     "  Thank  God,  I  hear  your  voice.     I  shall 
have  you  out,  never  fear." 

She  pressed  her  ear  close  to  the  heap  of  huge 
loose  stones  which  filled  the  opening.  She  could 
hear  him  working  outside. 

"  Don't  be  afraid,"  he  said  at  last. 

"  I  fear  nothing,"  she  answered,  "  if  you  are 
there." 

In  one  instant  the  situations  of  life  had  been  re 
versed.  He  was  the  master  now,  and  she  hung  upon 
his  words  and  actions  even  as  he  had  done  on  hers 
in  days  gone  by. 

She  had  no  knowledge  of  what  task  was  before 
him,  but  she  could  hear  the  progress  that  he  was 


The  Revelation  143 

making.  It  was  evident  that  he  was  working  furi 
ously,  and  yet  he  stopped  once  in  every  little  while 
to  reassure  himself  as  to  her  presence. 

"Woman,"  he  cried,  "are  you  still  there?" 

"  Here  and  waiting,"  was  the  answer. 

He  needed  that  assurance  of  her  safety  to  enable 
him  to  achieve  his  prodigious  task.  How  terrible 
were  the  efforts  he  put  forth,  she  did  not  know  until 
afterward,  but  his  was  the  work  of  a  Titan.  He 
was  moving  mountains  with  his  bare  hands.  In 
spired  by  love,  mightiest  of  passions,  he  was  tearing 
asunder,  like  the  earthquake,  the  rocky  foundations 
of  the  world.  Well  for  him  that  he  was  so  thewed 
and  sinewed.  Well  for  her  that  God  had  added 
strength  and  power  and  energy  to  all  his  other 
splendid  qualities.  He  had  never  done  any  work  in 
his  life  harder  than  the  climbing  of  a  tree,  but  no 
toiler  with  a  heritage  of  earth's  whole  long  experi 
ence  of  labor  could  have  struggled  as  did  he. 

He  had  been  awakened  at  the  selfsame  instant  in 
his  lonely  cell  upon  the  other  side  of  the  island. 
With  the  first  shock  he  remembered  that  some  time 
in  his  days  of  darkness  before  she  came  there  had 
been  a  similar  upheaval.  He  realized  instantly 
what  it  was.  Less  timorous  than  the  woman,  more 
agile,  he  did  not  lie  supine  for  a  single  second.  His 
thoughts  were  instantly  for  her.  He  had  thrown 
himself  from  his  cave  and  had  raced  across  the  shak 
ing,  quivering  island  without  the  hesitation  of  a 


144  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

moment.  Never  so  long  as  he  might  live  would  he 
forget  the  shock  that  came  to  him  when  he  saw  his 
way  to  her  barred  by  that  great  heap  of  rock  fallen 
from  the  face  of  the  cliff  which  lay  over  the  en 
trance  to  the  cave.  For  one  moment  he  had  stood 
appalled,  and  then  he  had  got  to  work.  How  much 
time  had  elapsed  before  he  arrived  at  her  door,  how 
much  time  it  took  him  to  clear  it  away,  he  had  no 
idea.  He  had  no  thought  but  that  he  must  open  a 
passage  and  get  to  her,  dead  or  alive. 

It  was  not  wise  for  him  to  expend  breath  in  cries, 
but  until  he  had  some  reply  he  could  not  keep  silent. 
After  that,  when  her  answer  came  to  him,  he  worked 
more  quietly  save  for  those  periods  when  he  felt  that 
he  must  hear  her  voice  to  enable  him  to  go  on. 
Such  was  the  furious  energy  of  his  toil  that  by  and 
by  the  great  mass  of  rock  was  cleared  away  save  one 
huge  boulder  which  fairly  blocked  the  entrance.  It 
was  light  outside  now.  A  gray  dawn  and  full  of 
storm.  Through  the  wider  interstices  she  could  see 
him  plainly.  She  knew  now  that  her  rescue  was  only 
a  matter  of  time.  A  branch  of  a  tree  for  a  lever, 
and  his  strength  would  roll  the  rock  away.  She 
started  to  tell  him,  but  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  her 
white  face  pressed  against  a  crevice,  and  the  sight 
inspired  him.  With  a  great  burst  of  strength,  the 
like  of  which  possibly  had  never  been  compassed  by 
mortal  man  since  Samson  pulled  apart  the  pillars  of 
the  temple,  he  rolled  the  great  rock  aside  and  stood 


The  Revelation  145 

in  the  entrance,  gasping,  panting,  with  outstretched 
arms. 

But  a  step  divided  them.  That  step  she  took. 
With  a  sob  of  relief  she  fell  upon  his  breast,  natu 
rally,  inevitably.  His  splendid  arms  swept  her  close 
to  him.  Her  own  hands  met  about  his  neck.  With 
upturned  face  she  looked  upon  him  in  all  the 
abandonment  of  perfect,  passionate  surrender.  He 
bent  his  head  and  kissed  her,  the  first  time  in  all  his 
years  that  his  lips  had  been  pressed  upon  another 
mouth.  He  clung  to  her  there  in  that  kiss  as  if  to 
make  up  in  one  moment  for  all  the  neglected  pos 
sibilities  of  the  past,  as  if  never  in  all  the  bringings 
forth  of  the  future  should  such  another  opportunity 
be  afforded  him.  He  felt  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life  the  beat  of  another  human  heart  against  his  own, 
the  rise  and  fall  of  another  human  breast,  the  throb 
bing  of  another  human  soul.  Tighter  and  tighter 
his  arms  strained  her  to  him.  She  gave  herself  up 
in  that  mad,  delirious,  awful  moment  to  the  full  flow 
of  long-checked  passion  and,  kiss  for  kiss,  pressure 
for  pressure,  and  heart  beat  for  heart  beat,  she  made 
response. 

It  was  too  much.  It  was  the  man  who  broke 
away.  There  was  nothing,  no  experience,  no  re 
membrance  to  teach  him.  It  was  all  surprise.  He 
thrust  her  from  him  slowly.  Her  hands  lingered 
about  his  neck,  but  his  backward  pressure  would  not 
be  denied.  He  held  her  at  arm's  length,  her  hands 


140  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

outstretched  to  him,  her  bosom  panting,  her  eyes 
shining,  her  cheeks  aflame  in  the  gray  dawn.  Yield 
ing,  giving  up  to  him  absolutely,  yet  something,  the 
magnificent  mettle  of  the  man,  the  restraints  through 
which  he  had  gone,  the  long  battle  with  his  own 
passion,  rose  to  his  soul  and  gave  him  mastery  once 
more. 

"  Woman  !  woman !  "  he  whispered — no  mere 
local  name  would  represent  her  now,  she  was  human 
ity  to  him — "Woman,"  he  whispered,  "  My  God! 
my  God!" 

He  turned  away,  sank  down  on  one  of  the  great 
boulders  that  he  had  thrown  aside  and  buried  his 
face  in  his  hands,  his  body  shaking  with  emotions 
he  could  scarce  define  but  well  understand.  The 
woman  threw  herself  down  on  her  knees  before  him 
and  took  him  once  more  in  her  arms. 

"Man,"  she  said,  "I  love  you!" 

She  drew  his  hands  away  from  his  face;  she  laid 
her  own  face  in  his  bleeding  palm  and  kissed  it. 

"  Man,"  she  said,  her  lips  wet  with  his  own  blood 
in  a  sort  of  wild,  barbaric  sacrament,  "  man,  I  love 
you !  " 

He  stared  at  her  as  one  distraught.  He  had 
dreamed  of  this,  he  had  imagined  it,  he  had  prayed 
for  it,  he  had  hoped  for  it,  but  no  revelation  that 
had  come  to  him  in  the  years  of  their  association 
equaled  in  its  blinding  brilliancy,  in  its  intense  illu 
mination,  the  revelation  in  that  woman's  voice,  in 
that  woman's  eyes,  in  that  woman's  touch. 


The  Revelation  147 

"  Man,"  she  said  again,  "  I  love  you.  Do  you 
understand?  Do  you  know  what  it  means?  " 

Then  he  found  voice.  He  took  her  hand  and 
pressed  it  against  his  heart. 

"  I  know,"  he  whispered.     "  I  understand,  here." 

He  rose  to  his  feet,  stooped,  caught  her  by  the 
shoulders  and  lifted  her  to  his  level.  A  piece  of 
rock  ill  balanced  on  the  edge  of  the  cliff  fell  crash 
ing.  The  place  was  dangerous.  Without  a  word 
he  slipped  his  arm  beneath  her,  lifted  her  up  as  he 
might  have  done  a  child  and  carried  her  out  upon 
the  sand  away  from  the  beetling  crags  of  the  rocky 
wall. 

She  nestled  in  his  arms  with  a  sense  of  joy 
and  satisfaction  and  helplessness  cared  for  so  ex 
quisite  that  it  was  almost  pain.  He  sat  her  down 
presently  on  a  rounded  boulder  and  turned  away  a 
moment,  striving  to  control  himself.  Unable  to 
deny  himself,  he  bent  over  her,  his  hand  on  her 
shoulder.  The  sunlight  sprang  through  the  gray 
haze  on  the  horizon's  edge  and  lighted  her  face  as 
she  lifted  it  up  to  him.  She  stretched  out  her  arm 
to  draw  him  to  her.  Suddenly  he  broke  away  and 
threw  himself  prostrate  before  her  and  laid  his  lips 
upon  her  feet. 

"  Not  there,"  she  whispered,  laying  her  hand  upon 
his  bent  head,  "  but  here,  here  in  my  arms,  upon  my 
heart,  for  Man,  Man,  I  love  you  I " 

Then  kneeling  by  her  side  he  took  her  once  more 
within  his  arms. 


148  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

"  But  you  have  not  said,"  she  began  at  last,  "  that 
you  loved  me." 

"  There  is  no  word,"  he  said  softly,  "  in  that 
speech  that  you  have  taught  me  which  is  equal  to 
what  I  feel.  You  don't  know  how  I  have  looked  upon 
you  and  longed  for  you  ever  since  you  made  me 
know  and  feel  that  I  was  a  man  with  a  man's  soul. 
Night  after  night  I  have  watched  you  as  you  went 
to  your  nook  in  the  rocks.  But  that  you  have  taught 
me  honor  and  consideration,  what  it  is  to  be  a  gen 
tleman,  I  had  followed  you  and  caught  you  in  the 
dark  within  my  arms." 

She  laid  her  hand  upon  his  breast  and  looked  at 
him  feelingly,  entreatingly,  with  touching  conscious 
ness  of  his  strength  and  her  weakness. 

:'  What  I  have  taught  you,"  she  asked,  "  you  will 
not  forget?" 

"Never!     Never!" 

He  released  her  waist  and  took  her  hand  and 
kissed  it.  There  was  as  much  passion  in  the  pres 
sure  of  his  lips  upon  her  hand  as  there  was  in  the 
beat  of  his  heart  against  her  own  she  felt. 

''You,"  he  continued,  "will  say  what  is  to  be 
done." 

"Not  I,"  she  answered  piteously,  "but  you.  I 
have  no  strength  when  you  are  by.  Since  that  mo 
ment  when  you  kissed  me,  you  are  the  master  and 
the  man,  but  you  will  respect  me  in  my  helpless 
ness?" 


The  Revelation  149 

"As  if  you  were  God  in  heaven,"  cried  the  man, 
raising  his  hand  as  one  who  makes  a  vow.  "  You 
are  to  me  everything  that  is  pure,  that  is  holy,  that  is 
lovely." 

"  No !  No ! "  she  whispered,  a  look  of  terror 
coming  into  her  face. 

"Yes,"  he  said.  "Through  you  I  know  God, 
through  you  I  know  woman.  You  are  sacred  to  me. 
Never  again,  unless  you  give  me  leave,  will  I  press 
my  lips  to  yours;  never  again,  unless  you  say  I  may, 
will  I  take  you  in  my  arms;  never  again  will  I  even 
touch  your  hand.  Indeed,  indeed,  I  cannot  do  these 
things.  And  yet  I  will  love  you  in  ways  of  which 
you  cannot  dream  so  long  as  I  can  draw  the  breath 
of  life." 

He  rose  to  his  feet  as  he  spoke  and  turned  away 
from  her  and  stood  with  clasped  hands  and  bowed 
shoulders.  In  one  moment  the  whole  course  of  their 
lives  had  changed.  It  had  taken  an  earthquake 
shock  to  do  it,  but  so  terrific  had  been  the  submerged 
fires  of  mutual  passion  that  a  whisper  opportunely 
uttered  would  have  effected  the  same  revolution. 
She  sat  and  watched  him,  wondering  what  would 
be  the  end  of  it.  She  knew  at  last  what  love  was, 
not  the  pale,  philosophic  emotion  she  had  experi 
enced  in  the  cabin  of  that  yacht.  God,  how  she 
hated  that  recollection!  How  she  wished  that  it 
had  never  been.  If  untouched  by  man  she  could 
have  been  cast  upon  that  island  to  be  given  to  this 


150  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

man  who  looked  upon  her  as  a  goddess.  She  had 
told  him  some  of  her  history,  but  not  the  part  which 
was  vital.  It  had  been  easy  not  to  enlighten  him 
wholly  as  to  that.  He  knew  nothing  about  condi 
tions.  He  had  never  seen  a  ship  or  a  boat  within 
his  recollection,  and  the  story  she  had  settled  upon 
and  told  him  was  one  that  received  instant  accept 
ance  from  him.  Indeed  there  was  nothing  that  she 
had  told  him  or  could  have  told  him  that  he  would 
not  implicitly  have  accepted  and  believed.  The  queen 
could  do  no  wrong.  She  was  incarnate  truth.  And 
she  would  have  to  tell  him  all  now.  She  would  have 
to  put  into  that  pure  soul,  alive  with  passionate  de 
votion,  admiration,  respect — every  feeling  that  can 
make  up  the  sum  of  mighty  love ! — this  story  of  evil 
and  shame.  There  was  no  help  for  it.  She  would 
have  to  tell  him. 

But  she  could  not  tell  him  now,  not  on  this  day. 
She  would  have  a  few  perfect  hours.  She  would 
stand  for  a  little  while  within  the  vales  of  Eden. 
She  would  look  for  a  little  time  through  the  gates 
of  heaven.  To-morrow!  To-day  she  would  have 
and  she  would  enjoy  it  to  the  full.  She  rose  softly  to 
her  feet  at  last  and  stepped  closer  to  him.  She  laid 
her  hand  upon  his  shoulder.  She  could  see  the 
muscles  in  his  arms  tighten  as  he  clenched  his  hands 
the  harder.  She  turned  him  gently  about  and  lifted 
her  perfect  lips  to  his.  She  kissed  him  again.  Her 
hand  sought  his;  her  fingers  parted  his  iron  grasp. 


The  Revelation  IJJI 

She  drew  his  arm  about  her  and  nestled  against 
him. 

"  I  trust  you,"  she  said,  "  as  I  love  you.  I  shall 
be  safe  with  you.  You  shall  not  draw  away  from 
me  in  such  isolation.  You  have  waited  long  for 
kisses  like  these." 

And  then  the  man  spoke,  the  man  in  him. 

"Woman,"  he  said,  "yours  are  the  only  lips  that 
nave  been  pressed  upon  mine,  save  perhaps  my 
mother's  as  a  child.  Has  any  other  man  ever  kissed 
you?" 

She  could  not  lie  to  him. 

"  Don't  ask  me,"  she  said — the  futile  request! 

The  man  had  turned  away  with  a  groan.  No 
happiness  is  unalloyed;  no  joy  comes  into  our  lives 
that  some  pain  does  not  dog  its  footsteps.  With 
love  came  jealousy  before  the  flood,  and  many 
waters  have  not  washed  it  out. 

"  At  least,"  she  said,  pressing  closer  to  him,  and 
he  did  not  repulse  her,  "  I  have  loved  no  man  but 
you." 

"  Oh !  "  he  said,  taking  her  once  more  within  his 
arms,  "  that  I  might  know  for  one  moment  what's 
out  there,  how  you  lived,  who  saw  you,  who  fol 
lowed  you,  who  loved  you !  " 

"  I  shall  tell  you,"  said  the  woman. 

"  But  you  have  told  me." 

"  Not  all." 

"When  the  rest,  then?" 


152  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

"To-morrow.  Meanwhile  let  us  enjoy  the  day," 
— the  old,  old  human  prayer,  let  us  enjoy  the  day 
despite  the  morrow, — "let  it  suffice  that  I  love  you; 
that  I  never  loved  anyone  else;  that  no  kisses  like  to 
yours  have  ever  been  pressed  upon  my  lips — no,  I 
believe,  not  upon  the  lips  of  mortal  woman.  Let  us 
pass  the  day  in  happiness  together.  Come,  we  must 
breakfast.  We  must  see  what  the  earthquake  has 
done  to  our  island.  We  have  things  to  think  about, 
things  to  do." 

"  I  have  nothing  to  think  about  but  you;  nothing 
to  do  but  to  love  you." 

Hand  in  hand,  they  stepped  across  the  sand  to  the 
shade  of  the  trees,  a  royal  and  a  noble  couple,  the 
splendid  woman  nobly  planned,  fit  mate  for  the  god 
like  man,  children  of  God  and  Nature,  both  of  them 
in  loose  tunics  which  she  had  woven  from  the  long 
soft  grass,  which  left  neck  and  arms  bare  and  fell  to 
knee  and  were  belted  in  at  the  waist.  Unhampered 
by  any  of  the  debasing  or  degrading  garments  of 
civilization,  they  were  a  pair  to  excite  the  admiration 
and  arouse  the  envy  of  the  gods. 


CHAPTER   XI 

THE   CONSCIENCE   QUICKENED 

THEY  had  spent  the  morning  together,  but  not 
as  usual.  Things  were  different,  conditions  had 
changed.  For  the  first  time  in  years  the  daily  lesson 
which  she  had  given  him  was  intermitted.  To-day 
they  were  both  at  school,  with  Love  for  preceptor 
and  such  willingness  in  their  hearts  as  made  them 
ideal  pupils.  The  storm  which  had  accompanied  the 
earthquake  had  died  away  as  suddenly  as  it  had 
arisen.  No  visible  evidence  of  it  was  left  save  the 
tremendous  thunder  of  the  long  undulating  seas  upon 
the  outward  barrier.  The  earthquake  had  not 
greatly  damaged  the  island;  the  fallen  cliff,  a  few 
prostrate  palms  here  and  there,  that  was  all.  But 
there  was  visible  evidence  in  them  of  the  storm 
through  which  they  had  passed  and  which  still  held 
them  in  its  throes  in  the  tumult  of  their  souls. 

To  the  man  the  experience  of  the  morning  was 
absolutely  new,  and  to  the  woman  it  was  so  different 
from  what  had  hitherto  transpired  that  it  was  prac 
tically  so.  They  luxuriated  in  their  emotions. 
They  sat  side  by  side,  hand  in  hand;  they  walked  to 
gether,  hand  in  hand.  Yet  it  was  the  woman  who 
was  the  bolder,  the  woman  who  made  the  advances. 

is? 


154  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

The  man  was  not  passive.  Kiss  for  kiss,  look  for 
look,  word  for  word,  touch  for  touch,  he  gave,  but 
the  initiative  was  hers,  not  his.  He  was  putting  a 
constraint  of  steel  upon  himself.  She  saw  that  and 
was  glad.  It  made  her  bold.  Womanlike  she  tried 
and  tested  the  blade  that  she  had  forged  again  and 
again,  growing  daring  in  her  immunity,  braver  in 
her  trust. 

The  experience  to  him  was  a  torture  of  such  sur 
passing  sweetness  that  he  could  have  cried  aloud 
with  the  exquisite  pain  of  it.  She  was  glad  when 
she  divined  something  of  what  was  going  on  in  his 
soul.  He  was  proving  his  worth  to  her.  When 
memory  forced  the  recollection  of  another  upon  her, 
she  contrasted  the  conduct  of  the  present  with  the 
conduct  of  the  past.  She  contrasted  the  actions  and 
characteristics  of  this,  what  the  world  would  call, 
half-naked  savage,  with  the  brutal  vulgarity  of  the 
fine  specimen  of  modern  civilization  with  which  she 
had  gone  away.  And  even  in  her  shame  at  the  recol 
lection  she  exulted.  This  was  indeed  a  man.  When 
the  great  passion  did  come  in  full  flood  into  her 
heart,  she  loved,  she  realized,  worthily. 

And  was  she  worthy  of  him?  Aye,  but  for  that, 
worthy  of  any  man.  She  was  too  clear-headed  to 
convict  herself  of  moral  obliquity,  but  there  was  in 
her  a  sense — and  it  had  never  been  so  keen  and  so 
powerful  and  so  penetrating  as  at  this  moment  when 
sbe  loved — of  nersonal  pollution,  under  which,  by 


The  Revelation  155 

hard  fortune,  little  of  the  blame  being  hers,  she  had 
to  suffer.  She  luxuriated  in  her  consciousness  of  his 
qualities,  in  his  love  for  her,  in  her  love  for  him; 
but  as  he  suffered,  so,  too,  did  she.  His  suffering 
was  of  the  present,  hers  was  of  the  past.  Which  is 
the  worse,  the  more  unendurable,  is  a  question  to 
which  no  solution  is  apparent.  Yet  hers  was  the 
harder  case  in  the  particular  instance,  for  hers  was 
filled  with  shame  and  dread,  and  his  was  only  begot 
by  a  prayer  that  he  might  not  forget  his  manhood. 

They  stood,  in  one  part  of  their  wanderings,  be 
fore  the  door  of  what  had  been  her  cave.  Hand  in 
hand  they  looked  down  upon  the  heap  of  rocks  that 
he  had  torn  away.  It  was  nothing  to  him;  to  her  it 
was  incredible.  She  could  better  estimate  what 
human  strength  was  capable  of  than  he.  She  had 
standards  of  comparison  which  he  lacked. 

"  It  cannot  be  possible  that  you  lifted  that  boulder, 
and  that  one,  alone?"  she  said,  gazing  at  him  won- 
deringly. 

"  At  that  moment  I  could  have  torn  the  rock 
asunder  to  release  you !  "  he  cried,  throwing  out  his 
arms  in  a  magnificent  gesture  of  strength  and  force. 

She  caught  his  hand  with  her  own  and  once  more 
pressed  her  lips  within  his  palm. 

"  I  don't  know  how  to  say  how  much  I  love  you !  " 
she  exclaimed. 

"  Say  that  you  will  try  to  care  as  much  for  me  as 
I  for  you,  and  I  shall  be  content,"  he  answered. 


156  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

And  so  there  was  a  pretty  rivalry  between  them 
as  to  which  loved  the  more.  In  the  midst  of  the 
strife  of  tongues,  the  woman  spoke.  She  could  not 
keep  away  from  the  subject. 

"  You  love  me,"  she  said  at  last,  "  because  you 
think  me  more  than  I  am,  because,"  she  ran  on  in 
spite  of  his  protesting  gesture,  checking  his  denying 
word,  "  because  you  have  seen  no  other  woman,  be 
cause  .  .  ." 

"  I  will  not  hear  another  word!  "  he  cried,  finding 
voice  at  last  and  stopping  her.  "  I  know  not  woman 
or  man  save  as  I  know  you  and  myself,  save  as  you 
have  taught  me  by  the  women  of  whom  you  have 
read  to  me  in  that  single  book  we  have,  the  women 
of  whom  you  have  told  me  who  have  played  their 
parts  in  the  world.  All  of  them  together  are  not 
like  you." 

"That  is  because  I  am  alive  and  here,  and  they 
are  dead  and  away." 

"  If  they  all  stood  here  by  me  on  the  sand,  if  all 
their  excellencies  and  virtues  were  centered  upon  one, 
and  she  stood  by  you  on  the  sand,  my  heart  would 
turn  to  you.  It  isn't  because  you  are  beautiful — you 
are  beautiful,  are  you  not?" 

Poor  man,  he  had  no  standards  of  comparison, 
only  the  instinct  for  the  lovely. 

"  Men  said  so,"  she  answered,  smiling  at  him  and 
blushing  in  confusion. 

"  Men  !  "  he  cried.     "  What  men  ?  " 


The  Revelation 

"  I  will  tell  you  to-morrow." 

She  sighed  deeply  at  the  thought  of  the  revela 
tion. 

"  Well,  then,"  he  continued,  "  it  isn't  because  you 
are  beautiful,  or  because  you  are  wise,  or  because 
you  are  learned,  or  because  you  are  kind;  it  is  be 
cause  you  are  yourself  that  I  love  you." 

"  And  if  I  were  none  of  these  things?" 

"  I  would  love  you  just  the  same." 

"  But  I  am  not  what  you  think  me  ...  in 
some  ways,"  she  protested. 

"I  could  never  think  highly  enough  of  you;  I 
know  that." 

"  No,  no,  it  isn't  that.  When  I  tell  you.    .     .     ." 

She  stopped  and  looked  at  him,  paling.  After 
all  the  greater  test  was  to  come  then.  "To  err," 
she  remembered  the  ancient  Latin  proverb,  "was 
human;  to  forgive  divine."  Would  he  be  human  or 
divine  in  this  trial?  Had  she  so  trained  him  that 
he  could  forgive  the  unforgivable?  In  more  ways 
than  one  her  happiness  depended  upon  what  would 
be  his  course.  If  he  forgave  her  and  condoned  her 
fault,  their  love  could  have  free  course  if  ever 
opportunity  for  benison  upon  it  presented.  But 
if  he  followed  the  common  course  of  men,  not  only 
would  any  future  union  between  them  on  the  only 
terms  to  which  she  could  consent  be  impossible,  but 
he  would  kill  her  heart,  her  trust  in  man — some 
times,  she  wildly  believed,  her  trust  in  God. 


158  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

"Nothing,  nothing,"  he  repeated,  "that  you  could 
tell  me  would  make  any  difference." 

So  lovers  have  protested,  she  recalled,  since  time 
and  the  world  began.  And  yet  things  told  have 
made  differences.  What  would  it  do  for  their 
future,  this  revelation  of  the  morrow? 

And  again  she  realized  that  the  test,  if  she  herself 
were  compelled  to  make  it,  would  be  not  exactly 
fair,  for  she  would  be  at  once  prosecuting  attorney, 
advocate  for  the  defense,  even  in  some  phase  the 
passer  of  judgment.  She  would  be  the  criminal  and 
the  v/orld  to  him.  It  would  hardly  be  possible  for 
him  to  arrive  at  a  correct  view  and  come  to  a  deter 
mination  unbiased  and  free.  If  she  could  have 
transported  him  by  some  magic  power  among  the 
children  of  men,  and  with  them  for  auditory  have 
told  her  story,  the  test  would  be  a  true  one.  What 
he  would  do  then,  after  having  heard  the  world's 
voices,  the  world's  appeals,  the  world's  mockeries, 
would  truly  determine  what  he  was,  and  in  no  other 
way  could  that  determination  be  arrived  at.  Though 
she  strove  to  be  as  impartial  as  divinity,  she  could 
not  but  make  her  defense  coincident  with  her  revela 
tion,  her  justification  at  the  same  time  with  her  con 
demnation.  He  knew  nothing  of  life  but  what  she 
and  instinct  had  taught  him,  and  neither  would  be 
safe  guides  in  this  emergency.  He  could  protest  and 
she  could  believe  his  protests,  but  unless  they  were 


The  Revelation 

uttered  not  merely  before  high  heaven  but  before 
surrounding  men,  they  would  be  of  little  value. 

She  put  this  by  resolutely  at  last.  We  are  the 
creatures  of  circumstance  and  environment.  She 
would  have  to  do  the  best  that  she  could  on  the 
morrow.  Meanwhile  she  would,  as  she  had  said, 
enjoy  the  day.  And  so  the  morning  hours  wore 
away  until  the  time  came  for  the  customary  parting. 
At  first  she  would  have  abandoned,  in  the  luxury  of 
the  new  passion  or  the  new  revelation  of  the  old 
passion,  the  customary  rule,  but  she  still  preserved 
some  lingering  remains  of  her  common  sense,  and 
she  clearly  perceived  that  it  was  necessary  to  go  on 
as  they  had.  Society  cannot  proceed  without  its 
conventions,  and  these  simple  regulations  were  their 
conventions  which  had  to  be  obeyed.  And  so  they 
parted  as  usual.  But  they  parted  as  they  had  never 
parted  before,  torn  asunder  by  their  own  compli 
ance  with  their  own  petty  rules,  their  hearts  pro 
testing. 

Long  before  the  earthquake  they  had  erected  on 
the  topmost  hill  of  the  island  a  huge  pile  of  dead 
wood  from  the  groves  beneath.  She  had  lighted 
fires  with  her  flint  and  steel  for  him  from  time  to 
time  to  teach  him  what  they  were.  She  had  even 
managed  to  cook  some  of  the  vegetable  growths  of 
the  island,  as  well  as  the  eggs  of  the  turtle,  oysters, 
and  mussels  which  they  could  gather  from  the  rocks 


160  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

at  low  tide.  And  she  had  taught  him — strange 
whimsy! — to  eat  of  these  things  on  occasion  with 
the  use  of  salt  with  a  sort  of  dim  anticipation  that 
some  day  he  might  come  into  the  land  of  cooked 
food  and  of  flesh  food  and  find  the  power  capable 
of  development  and  useful. 

She  had  taught  him  all  sorts  of  little  refinements 
and  niceties  of  civilization.  Pie  had  an  accurate 
idea  of  a  fork,  although  he  had  never  seen  one.  He 
knew  that  to  eat  with  a  knife  was  a  thing  to  be 
avoided,  although  he  knew  no  knife  except  the 
sailor's  sheath  knife  which  she  still  wore  at  her 
waist.  A  dainty  person,  she  had  taught  him  dainti 
ness  just  as  she  had  taught  him  to  comb  his  hair. 
Indeed,  she  had  done  that  first  herself,  marveling 
at  the  brilliant  golden  curls  that  adorned  his  head. 
She  had  taught  him  to  trim  his  beard  and  to  care 
for  his  person,  smiling  the  while  to  find  how  much 
more  inherent  daintiness  and  nicety  and  refinement 
are  than,  as  some  would  have  us  believe,  only  exter 
nal  acquirements  of  civilization.  He  had  had  les 
sons  in  manners  and  etiquette,  this  half-naked  sav 
age.  Indeed,  the  time  had  been  all  too  short  for 
what  she  would  have  him  learn.  But  she  had  gone 
about  it  systematically,  persistently,  and  given  days 
and  days  without  break  to  her  task,  and  the  results 
were  wonderful. 

When  they  had  parted  she  had  suggested  to  him 
' — and  it  was  significant  that  now  it  was  a  sugges- 


The  Revelation  161 

tion;  yesterday  it  would  have  been  a  command — > 
that  he  should  take  time  to  ascend  the  hill  and  re 
arrange  the  great  heap  of  wood  which  they  had 
builcled.  During  all  the  time  that  had  elapsed  since 
she  had  been  there  no  sail  had  whitened  the  horizon, 
no  curl  of  smoke  had  betokened  the  distant  passing 
of  a  steamer.  But  no  spot  of  the  globe  could  for 
ever  remain  unvisited,  she  thought,  and  some  day 
that  pile  of  wood  might  make  a  beacon  light  to  call 
civilization  to  them.  He  was  glad  to  comply  with 
her  suggestion,  glad  for  occupation,  and  so  he 
promised  and  went  his  way. 

When  he  had  disappeared,  she  turned  the  edge 
of  the  cliff  in  the  secluded  amphitheater  where  her 
cave  fronted  the  ocean.  She  threw  aside  her  tunic 
of  woven  grass  and  plunged  into  the  cool,  delightful 
pool,  which  fortunately  the  earthquake  had  not  dis 
turbed.  Her  clothes,  the  scanty  garments  she  had 
improvised  from  her  underclothing,  had  long  since 
worn  out.  It  had  not  been  difficult,  however,  to 
plait  of  certain  pliable  rushes  which  grew  in  plenty 
upon  the  island  the  loose  and  shapeless  garments 
they  both  wore.  She  had  used  strips  torn  from 
what  had  remained  of  her  clothing  for  binding  and 
edging,  and  practice  had  made  her  dexterous  and 
skillful  in  the  rude  weaving.  She  still  preserved, 
however,  the  blouse  and  skirt  of  serge,  her  only  pair 
of  stockings,  and  the  canvas  boating  shoes.  Some 
times  in  idle  moments  she  tried  those  shoes  on. 


162  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

Fortunately  for  her  they  were  loose  and  easy.  Go 
ing  barefoot  these  years  had  enlarged  her  small  and 
slender  feet  to  something  like  those  human  and  pro 
per  proportions  which,  from  the  standpoint  of  nature 
at  least,  had  greatly  enhanced  their  beauty.  She 
kept  these  clothes,  she  hardly  knew  why;  perhaps,  for 
one  reason,  since  she  had  been  able  to  weave  the 
wattled  garment  so  well  suited  to  her  needs — she 
had  no  use  for  them;  perhaps  against  the  day  of  the 
arrival  of  other  civilization  than  her  own. 

Greatly  refreshed  by  her  bath — and  it  shows  her 
absolute  confidence  in  him  and  his  worth  that  inter 
ruption  never  occurred  to  her;  it  had  never  come  and 
therefore  it  never  would — she  resumed  her  tunic  and 
walked  toward  the  cave.  The  tide  was  very  low. 
The  sands  terminated  on  one  side  in  a  rocky  ledge 
where  a  long  arm  of  the  lagoon  ran  to  the  foot  of 
the  cliff.  The  cliff  had  been  tremendously  shaken 
apparently,  and  she  noticed  just  above  the  water  line 
a  narrow  opening.  She  had  thought  from  noises 
during  storms  that  there  was  a  hidden  cave  in  the 
cliff  with  an  opening  under  water.  She  had  imag 
ined  that  possibly  she  could  enter  it  by  diving, 
but  she  had  never  cared  to  make  the  attempt,  al 
though  by  this  time  she  had  become  as  much  at 
home  in  the  water  or  under  it  as  if  she  had  been 
native  to  the  South  Seas.  Sometimes  in  the  morning 
they  swam  in  the  lagoon  together,  oftentimes  she 


The  Revelation  163 

swam  alone.  It  was  a  great  pleasure  to  her,  and  a 
necessity  as  well  in  that  low  latitude. 

Curiosity  induced  her  to  inspect  more  closely  this 
opening  near  the  water's  edge.  Again  throwing 
aside  her  garment,  she  plunged  into  the  arm  of  the 
sea  and  swam  boldly  toward  the  cliff.  There  was 
just  room  enough  between  the  water  level  and  the 
top  of  the  opening  for  her  head.  She  found  herself 
in  a  straight  passageway  perhaps  eight  or  ten  feet 
long  and  as  many  wide.  Cautiously  she  swam 
through  it  and  discovered  herself  in  an  immense 
cave.  Light  filtered  through  the  opening,  and  one 
or  two  fissures  had  been  opened  here  and  there  by 
the  earthquake  or  by  some  convulsion  of  nature  be 
fore,  through  the  rocky  wall,  invisible  on  the  face 
of  the  cliff  from  the  outside  but  quite  distinct  within. 
There  was  even  a  stretch  of  sandy  beach  on  one 
side.  She  swam  to  it,  clambered  upon  it,  and  sat 
down  to  rest. 

Here  was  an  excellent  haven  of  refuge,  instinc 
tively  occurred  to  her,  although  a  refuge  from  what 
she  scarcely  knew.  Except  at  the  very  lowest  of  the 
ebb  the  entrance  would  be  covered,  and  even  then 
it  would  take  a  curious  and  familiar  eye  to  discover 
the  entrance  or  to  imagine  it  anything  more  than  a 
deep  rift  in  the  face  of  the  sea  wall.  At  any  other 
hour  the  entrance  would  be  invisible,  and  even  at  low 
tide,  if  the  wind  blew  from  the  sea,  which  it  gener- 


164  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

ally  did,  the  breaking  waves  would  cover  the  en 
trance  completely.  Off  to  one  side,  quite  accessible 
from  the  sand  strip  which  rose  sufficiently  high  to 
afford  full  shelter  above  the  high  water  mark,  a  little 
stream  plunged  down  the  cliff.  She  tasted  the  water 
and  found  it  fresh  and  sweet.  All  that  one  would 
lack  would  be  food  and  the  hiding  place  could  be 
occupied  indefinitely. 

She  stayed  in  the  cave  some  little  time,  and  when 
she  finally  decided  to  return  to  the  outer  world  she 
discovered  that  the  tide  had  turned  and  that  the  en 
trance  was  now  completely  under  water.  This  gave 
her  no  disquiet.  Light  still  came  from  the  outside 
to  mark  the  way.  She  had  acqujred  the  faculty  of 
swimming  beneath  the  surface  with  her  eyes  open, 
and  the  distance  was  short.  She  dove  into  it  con 
fidently  and  presently  emerged  in  the  lagoon  outside. 
It  was  the  one  place  on  the  island,  so  far  as  she  had 
discovered — she  had  always  thought  there  was  a  cave 
there,  but  had  never  been  able  to  verify  her  knowl 
edge — which  provided  her  with  a  shelter  absolutely 
secure  and  inaccessible,  as  she  believed.  She  had  no 
less  trust  in  her  man  than  she  had  before,  bu*  the 
knowledge  gave  her  a  strange  comfort. 

When  she  met  him  that  night  she  did  not  impart 
her  secret  to  him.  Whatever  happened  now,  she 
had  a  place  of  refuge,  she  realized,  and  she  was  glad. 
It  was  a  gorgeous  golden  night  in  the  South  Pacific. 
They  wandered  and  played  and  loved  together  under 


The  Revelation  165 

the  tropic  moon  and  stars  in  the  gemlike  island. 
Yet  when  they  parted  each  was  unaccountably  sad; 
she  because  of  what  she  must  tell  him  on  the  morrow, 
and  he  because  of  what  he  had  begun  to  fancy  ho 
must  hear. 

There  were  more  things  to  happen  on  that  mor 
row  than  either  she  in  her  philosophy  or  he  in  his  in 
experience  could  have  dreamed  of  when  they  kissed 
again  at  parting  and  together  said  good-night 


CHAPTER   XII 

THE    SHIP    ON    THE    HORIZON 

YESTERDAY  morning  she  had  been  awakened  by  an 
earthquake.  To-day  it  was  the  call  of  a  voice,  his 
voice.  Besides  hers  there  was  none  other  on  the 
island.  It  came  to  her  through  the  open  entrance. 
By  turning  her  head  she  could  see  the  bright  expanse 
of  sand  and  sea  and  sky  beyond.  Yet  no  figure 
darkened  that  rift  in  the  cave  wall.  He  stood  out 
of  sight,  but  within  hearing,  calling  her  name.  She 
rose  to  her  feet,  gathered  the  tunic  about  her  waist 
by  a  cincture  of  plaited  grass,  mechanically  thrust 
the  knife  within  a  rude  sheath  she  had  made  for  it, 
and  stepped  out  upon  the  sand.  She  had  a  sudden 
premonition  that  something  unusual  had  happened, 
for  never  before  had  he  ventured  to  come  to  the 
cave  and  thus  awaken  her.  The  change  in  their  re 
lations  might  have  moved  him  to  this  extraordinary 
course,  yet  she  did  not  believe  that  it  had.  She 
found  him  in  a  great  state  of  excitement.  As  she 
cleared  the  entrance,  he  ran  toward  her  waving  his 
hands. 

"  There  is  something,1*  he  cried,  his  voice  thrilling 
with  new  and  strange  emotions,  "  on  the  other  side 
of  the  island  I  " 

166 


The  Revelation  167 

"  Is  it  something  of  enough  importance,"  she  said 
softly,  laying  her  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  "  to  keep 
you  from  kissing  me  good-morning?  " 

Evidently  whatever  it  was,  it  was  not,  she  thought 
for  a  happy  moment  as  he  swept  her  to  his  breast  at 
once.  That  had  been  his  first  instinct,  that  had  been 
his  burning  desire  the  night  long.  To  have  her  in 
his  arms  was  his  constant  thought;  but  he  was  new 
to  lover's  ways,  unused  to  lover's  customs,  and,  be 
sides,  he  had  sworn  that  the  advances  must  come 
from  her.  But  once  the  advance  was  made,  the 
signal  was  displayed,  the  permission  was  given,  he 
more  than  did  his  part.  Pressing  back  her  head  he 
fed  his  fill  upon  her  lips.  No,  not  that,  he  could 
never  do  that;  but  he  kissed  her  long,  and  for  the 
moment  forgot  what  he  had  come  to  tell.  It  was 
she  who  first  remembered. 

"  And  what  is  it,"  she  asked,  "  on  the  other  side 
of  the  island?" 

"  I  forgot  it  for  the  moment,"  he  answered  pas 
sionately,  "  as  I  forget  everything  with  you  in  my 


arms." 


She  laughed  at  this  bold  assertion. 
'  You  love,"  she  said,  "  as  if  you  had  been  taught 
to  do  it  from  the  beginning." 

"  The  sight  of  you,  your  touch,  the  air  that  hangs 
about  your  person,  they  have  taught  me,  and  I  am 
only  beginning  now  to  show  you  how  much  I  love 
you." 


1 68  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

"  If  this  be  the  beginning,"  she  laughed,  "  what 
will  be  the  end?" 

"  There  is  no  end,"  he  replied,  laughing  in  his 
turn. 

"  But  you  came  here  to  tell  me  something  else." 

"  When  I  started  from  the  other  side  of  the  island, 
it  seemed  the  greatest  thing  that  I  could  tell,  but 
since  I  have  seen  you  .  .  ." 

"  Man,  Man,"  she  cried  with  pleasant  impatience, 
"  what  is  it  that  you  saw?  " 

"  I  think  it  is  a  ship,"  he  answered  with  sudden 
gravity. 

"  A  ship ! "  she  exclaimed  in  wild  amaze. 

She  laid  her  hand  upon  her  heart  and  sank  down 
upon  a  near-by  boulder.  If  his  words  were  true, 
what  would  it  mean  to  them  both? 

"  I  have  never  seen  a  ship,  but  there  is  a  dark  ob 
ject  out  yonder,"  he  pointed  across  the  island  toward 
the  farther  horizon,  "  too  far  away  for  me  to  dis 
tinguish  what  it  is,  but  smoke  rises  from  it." 

"Let  us  go!" 

She  rose  to  her  feet  and  extended  her  hand.  He 
took  it  and  they  began  to  run.  They  ran  as  often 
as  they  walked  except  in  the  greater  heat  of  mid-day. 
Lithe,  free-limbed,  lightly  clad,  deep-chested  and 
strong,  in  this  emergency  they  headed  straight  across 
the  hill  instead  of  taking  the  longer  way  around  the 
.sands.  The  distance  was  not  great.  There  was  a 
sort  of  rude  path  which  they  had  made  and  often 


The  Revelation  169 

traversed,  and  in  a  few  moments  they  stood,  panting 
a  little,  for  they  had  been  unusually  speedy  and 
eager,  on  the  top  of  the  hill. 

"  There  1 "  cried  the  man,  pointing  to  seaward. 

His  eyesight  was  better  than  hers,  but  hers  was 
still  sufficiently  keen,  as  she  followed  his  outstretched 
arm  and  extended  finger,  to  see  upon  the  far  horizon 
a  dark  object  which  was  undoubtedly  a  ship.  A 
hazy  column  of  smoke  elongated  behind  it  and  told 
her  that  it  was  a  steamer. 

"  You  are  right,"  she  said  at  last,  a  little  sob  in 
her  voice,  "  it  is  a  ship.  It  means  rescue.  The 
world  is  coming  to  our  shores." 

"  My  world  is  here,"  he  returned,  laying  his  hand 
upon  her  shoulder,  and  for  answer  she  drew  closer* 
to  him,  glad  to  feel  his  clasp  about  her  waist. 

She  had  time  to  think  how  singularly  like  the  lan 
guage  of  convention  was  the  language  of  nature.  It 
was  what  any  other  man  who  loved  would  have  said 
and  in  the  same  way. 

"  That  ship  is  passing  by,"  he  went  on.  "  When 
I  saw  it  as  I  woke  this  morning,  it  was  there.  It 
goes  rapidly." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  it  passes  by." 

"  I  care  not,"  he  interrupted.  "  I  don't  want  any 
thing  else  or  anybody  else.  Now  that  I  have  you, 
I  am  content  here." 

"  But  we  shall  summon  it  and  bring  it  back,"  she 
went  on  resolutely. 


170  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

"How?  "  he  asked  curiously. 

"  By  lighting  the  beacon  yonder." 

"  I  forgot  that." 

"  But  I  did  not.  Go  back  to  the  cave  and  bring 
the  flint  and  steel.  You  will  find  them  in  the  silver 
box  on  the  shelf  by  the  Bible;  and  make  haste." 

"  I  will  go  the  quicker,"  he  said,  turning  from 
her,  "  that  I  may  be  the  sooner  back  with  you." 

He  turned  and  bounded  away  like  a  young  deer. 
She  watched  him  through  the  trees  and  then  sat 
down  upon  the  summit  of  the  hill  and  stared  toward 
the  ship.  She  was  glad,  of  course,  that  they  were 
to  be  rescued,  but  as  in  the  joy  of  her  love  there 
was  sorrow,  so  in  her  gladness  there  was  apprehen 
sion.  That  test  of  which  she  had  dreamed  the  night 
before  was  now  to  be  made  complete.  She  would 
postpone  the  telling  of  her  story  until  he  could  hear 
in  comment  upon  it  the  voice  of  the  world. 

They  had  lived  in  Eden,  Eden  without  a  serpent. 
They  had  plucked  the  tree  of  knowledge  at  will  and 
no  consequences  evil  had  ensued;  nevertheless  they 
must  go  out  into  the  world  now,  the  world  with  its 
pains,  its  toils  and  frets,  the  world  with  its  mockeries 
and  scorns,  and  take  up  the  appointed  life  of  men. 
He  loved  her  now — there  could  not  be  any  doubt 
about  that — but  what  would  he  do  when  he  knew, 
and  when  he  knew  that  the  world  knew,  as  well 
what  she  had  thought,  what  she  had  been,  and  what 
she  had  done?  Alas,  when  that  ship's  boat  touched 


The  Revelation  171 

the  shores  of  their  island  to  take  them  away  from 
that  paradise,  the  angel  of  the  flaming  sword  would 
always  guard  the  entrance  and  prevent  their  return 
ing  to  it. 

She  was  a  brave  woman.  She  could  face  the  in 
evitable  with  courage,  with  a  philosophy  which  now 
at  last  was  Christian.  She  had  had  three  peaceful 
years  and  a  day  of  such  happiness  as  falls  to  the  lot 
of  few  of  the  children  of  sorrow.  Perhaps  that  was 
all  that  she  was  destined  to  look  back  upon  of  joy. 
Perhaps  the  future  held  for  her  only  expiation. 
Perhaps  she  ought  not  to  rebel  against  that  pos 
sibility.  She  ought  to  be  glad  of  such  an  oppor 
tunity  indeed.  But  she  was  a  woman,  and  by  and 
by  she  hid  her  face  in  her  hands  and  wept. 

In  all  their  intercourse  he  had  rarely  seen  her 
weep.  Tears  were  almost  foreign  to  his  experience. 
He  knew  what  sorrow  was,  what  sadness  was,  what 
sympathy  was,  for  his  heart  had  been  torn  when  she 
had  read  to  him  the  story  of  the  Man  of  Sorrows 
and  His  sufferings.  A  child  of  nature,  the  pathetic 
in  the  Old  Covenant  and  the  New  had  appealed  to 
him  profoundly,  but  his  were  not  easy  tears.  He 
had  never  shed  any.  He  had  only  once  or  twice  seen 
any.  He  was  appalled,  therefore,  when  approaching 
noiselessly  he  laid  his  hand  upon  her  shoulder  and 
saw  and  heard  the  evidence  of  her  grief.  He  dropped 
the  box  to  the  sod  and  knelt  beside  her. 

"Has  the  sight  of  that  ship  made  you  weep?'* 


172  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

he  said  softly.  "  I  wish  that  I  had  never  come  to 
tell  you  it  was  there ! " 

"We  have  been  so  happy  together,  you  and  I," 
said  the  woman.  "  This  island  has  been  my  world, 
my  haven,  my  heaven,  rather,  and  you  have  been 
humanity  to  me,  but  now  the  earth  opens  before 
you.  You  will  have  other  interests,  other  hopes, 
other  ambitions,  perhaps.  .  .  ." 

"  Don't  say  it,"  protested  the  man  vehemently. 
"  I  shall  have  nothing,  nothing  but  you  anywhere, 
everywhere,  and,  besides,  nothing  is  changed.  See, 
the  smoke  grows  fainter,  the  ship  more  dim.  She 
passes  beyond.  Things  shall  be  as  they  were  1  Here 
we  shall  live  and  love  on ! " 

Her  desolation,  her  sorrow,  appealed  to  him  pro 
foundly.  He  took  her  in  his  arms.  He  laid  her 
head  gently  upon  his  shoulder.  There  was  protec 
tion  and  tenderness  as  well  as  passion  in  his  touch. 

"Together,"  he  whispered,  patting  her  hair 
softly,  "alone,  you  and  I,  forever!" 

For  one  delicious  moment,  with  closed  eyes,  she 
let  herself  be  so  soothed  and  comforted.  But  her 
better  nature  woke  on  the  instant  as  it  were. 

"  No,"  she  said,  drawing  away  from  him  gently, 
"it  would  not  be  right.  We  belong  in  the  world 
of  men.  Men  and  women  are  not  men  and  women 
until  they  have  lived  among  their  fellows,  until  they 
have  fought  down  the  temptations  of  which  we  know 
nothing  here,  and  have  conquered  them  .  .  . 


The  Revelation  175 

out  there.     Give  me  the  flint  and  steel.     I  must  call 
back  the  ship !  " 

He  stooped  as  she  spoke  and  picked  up  the  little 
silver  box.  He  extended  his  hand  toward  her  and 
then  suddenly  drew  it  back. 

'*  You  cannot  light  the  beacon,"  he  said. 

"  Cannot !  "  she  cried. 

"No,  for  I  will  not  give  you  the  flint  and  steel." 

"  You  must  give  it  to  me." 

"  I  will  not.  I  am  the  stronger  and  you  cannot 
take  it  from  me,"  he  returned  with  growing  firmness. 

It  was  the  first  time  in  all  their  intercourse  that: 
he  had  disobeyed  a  command.  She  looked  at  him 
amazed,  her  heart  nevertheless  throbbing  at  the  mas 
tery  in  his  tone,  at  the  thought  that  he  was  willing 
to  throw  away  the  world  for  her.  It  is  true  he  had 
had  no  experience  of  that  he  was  giving  up,  but  he 
was  not  entirely  ignorant  of  the  possibility,  for  she 
had  told  him  of  what  lay  beyond  the  horizon,  and 
she  had  presented  it  in  such  a  way  that  it  glowed 
with  color  and  life  and  charm.  The  evil,  the  sordid, 
and  the  wretched  had  been  lightly  alluded  to,  just 
definitely  enough  to  shade  the  picture  and  bring  out 
the  higher  lights  of  civilization.  His  was  not  the 
decision,  therefore,  of  an  untutored,  inexperienced 
savage,  not  the  abandonment  of  a  toy  by  a  child; 
there  was  some  reality  in  it,  and  the  reality  measured 
his  affection.  Her  heart  leaped  in  her  breast  at  that 
For  one  fleeting  moment  she  acquiesced* 


174  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

Things  would  go  on  in  the  old  way.  But  things 
could  not  go  on  in  the  old  way.  For  a  day  and  a 
night,  in  spite  of  the  great  change  that  had  come  to 
their  feelings,  life  had  flowed  on  as  usual,  but  there 
was  a  limit  to  human  power.  It  was  better,  what 
ever  betide,  that  they  should  go  back  to  civilization. 
The  woman  stared  at  him  long,  earnestly,  her  lip 
trembling,  her  face  pale,  her  eyes  shining.  They 
stood  speechless  at  gaze  for  a  moment,  and  then 
she  spoke. 

"  You  are  right,"  she  said,  "  my  power  over  you 
has  gone.  I  can  no  longer  command.  Mine  has 
ceased  to  be  the  supreme  will,  but  I  beg  you,  I  en 
treat  you,  I  pray  you,  give  me  the  flint  and  steel. 
See,  on  my  knees  I  ask  you ! " 

She  sank  down  before  him  in  an  attitude  which 
he  knew  to  be  that  of  prayer.  They  had  often  read 
the  sacred  Scriptures  and  had  said  their  prayers  to 
gether  on  the  sand  or  beneath  the  trees  since  she, 
too,  in  the  solitude  had  seen  God  and  believed. 

"  I  cannot.  I  will  not,"  he  answered  hoarsely, 
stepping  nearer  to  her. 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  you  must  not  touch  me,  you 
shall  not  touch  me.  I  shall  be  to  you  as  a  stranger, 
unless  you  take  me  by  force,  if  you  will  not  let  me 
light  that  beacon." 

"No,"  said  the  man  doggedly.  "When  the 
world  touches  our  shores,  it  brings  you  unhappiness. 
Let  it  pass." 


The  Revelation  175 

"  Listen ! "  she  said.  "  I  have  tried  to  tell  you 
something  about  honor  and  duty.  My  honor  says 
that  that  ship  must  be  called.  My  duty  bids  me  call 
her.  You  have  said  that  you  love  me." 

"  Said !  "  exclaimed  the  man. 

'  You  do  love  me,  then,"  returned  the  woman, 

"  and  I  you,  but  that  love  must  be  tested,  tried  in  the 

world.     I  can  never  believe  in  it,  in  you,  until  the 

trial  has  been  made.     We  must  call  back  the  ship !  " 

"  But  I  can  believe  in  you  without  any  test." 

"  I  am  different.  I  have  been  out  there.  I  know 
what  it  is.  I  have  seen  other  men." 

She  looked  fixedly  at  him.  He  bent  closer  to  her 
and  laid  his  hand  upon  her  shoulder,  not  this  time 
in  caress.  She  winced  from  the  tightness  of  his 
grasp,  the  fierce  intensity  of  his  clutch,  yet  she  did 
not  draw  away  and  he  was  not  conscious  of  the  force 
he  used. 

'  You  have  seen  other  men.  They  have  loved 
you?" 

"  Yes,"  she  forced  herself  to  reply. 

"And  you?" 

"  I  have  loved  no  man  but  you." 

"  You  had  something  to  tell  me.  You  were  to 
tell  me  to-day." 

"  Yes." 

"  Was  it  about  some  other  man  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"What  was  it?" 


176  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

"  I  will  tell  you  when  we  have  gone  back  where 
men  and  women  live." 

"Why  not  now?" 

"You  must  hear  the  voice  of  the  world  in  com 
ment  upon  what  I  say." 

"  But  if  we  do  not  go  back?  " 

"  There  will  be  a  secret  between  us  which  I  will 
carry  to  my  grave.  It  would  be  fatal  to  our  happi 
ness.  You  see  we  must  call  back  the  ship.  Give 
me  the  flint  and  steel,  for  God's  sake,  if  you  love  me, 
Man!" 

She  had  never  adjured  him  in  that  fashion  before. 
He  stood  irresolute  a  moment  and  dropped  the  box 
at  her  feet.  She  had  conquered,  conquered  by  ap 
pealing  to  his  love  for  her.  Nothing  else,  she  felt, 
would  have  moved  him. 

Eagerly  she  opened  the  silver  box  and  took  thence 
the  tiny  implements.  Fortunately  they  were  in  the 
heart  of  the  dry  season.  To  strike  a  spark  was  easy, 
to  communicate  it  to  the  tinderlike  brushwood  was 
easier  still.  In  a  moment,  catching  the  inflammable 
wood  dried  out  by  the  tropic  sun,  the  flames  roared 
through  the  great  mass.  The  cliff  or  peak  at  the  top 
of  the  island  made  a  background  for  the  flame,  and 
soon  a  pillar  of  fire  twenty  or  thirty  feet  high  leaped 
and  curled  up  into  the  still  air  of  the  morning. 

The  woman  beckoned.  The  two  ran  around  the 
peak  of  the  rock  until  they  were  sheltered  from  the 


The  Revelation  177 

fierce  heat  of  the  fire.  From  where  they  stood  they 
could  see  the  ship. 

"  Do  you  think,"  asked  the  man,  "  that  the  people 
on  the  ship  will  see  the  flame?" 

"  They  cannot  fail  to  do  so." 

"And  how  will  they  regard  it?" 

"As  a  signal." 

"And  what  will  they  do?" 

"  Turn  about  and  head  for  the  island." 

"  And  how  can  we  tell  what  they  are  doing?  " 

"  When  the  smoke  ceases  to  elongate,"  she  replied, 
"  it  will  show  us  that  they  have  turned  and  are  head 
ing  this  way." 

There  was  little  breeze,  apparently,  and  the  smoke 
would  follow  the  wake  of  the  ship.  They  watched 
the  little  speck  on  the  horizon  with  strained  intensity 
for  a  few  moments. 

"How  if  she  passes  on?  "  asked  the  man  at  last. 

"  I  shall  take  it  as  a  sign,"  said  the  woman  slowly, 
"that  .  .  .  Look!  "  she  cried  with  sudden  emo 
tion. 

The  ship  had  turned  and  the  cloud  of  smoke  now 
rose  straight  above  her  in  the  quiet  air. 

;'  They  have  seen  the  signal,"  went  on  the  woman. 
*  They  will  come  here.  We  shall  be  taken  away !  " 

"  It  is  your  fault,"  said  the  man  grimly.  "  I 
wanted  nothing  but  to  be  alone  with  you." 


BOOK  IV 
THE   COMING  OF  THE  WORLD 


,1  nad  trailed  astern  of  the 

c  weather.     Such  was  his  physi- 

when  he  was  not  unconscious,  he 

181 


CHAPTER   XIII 

THE  LONG  SEARCH 

MR.  VALENTINE  ARTHUR  LANGFORD  was  wearily 
pacing  the  quarterdeck  of  his  magnificent  yacht,  the 
Southern  Cross.  Mr.  Langford  was  an  intensely 
disappointed  and  embittered  man.  He  had  made 
two  ventures  which,  by  a  stretch  of  language  in  one 
case  at  least,  could  be  called  matrimonial,  and 
both  of  them  had  resulted  in  diaster.  Death  op 
portunely  had  relieved  him  of  one  wife;  the  other, 
who  had  stood  in  the  place  of  the  former  without 
the  legal  ceremony  or  the  spiritual  benediction,  had 
vanished  under  circumstances  so  mysterious  that  he 
had  no  idea  whether  she  was  alive  or  dead.  On  a 
certain  night  some  three  years  ago  he  had  a  dim  re 
membrance  that  he  had  behaved  like  a  brute  to  a 
woman.  His  remembrance  was  only  dim  as  to  de 
tails.  It  was  entirely  clear  as  to  the  fact. 

What  had  happened  as  a  result  of  his  conduct,  he 
could  not  definitely  state.  The  next  morning  the 
crew  had  found  him  lying  insensible  on  the  cabin 
floor  with  a  fractured  skull.  The  woman  was  gone, 
also  the  power  boat  which  had  trailed  astern  of  the 
yacht  in  the  pleasant  weather.  Such  was  his  physi 
cal  condition  that  when  he  was  not  unconscious,  he 

181 


1 82  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

was  delirious.  He  had  been  unable  to  give  any 
coherent  account  of  affairs,  and  equally  unable  to 
give  any  directions  as  to  the  future  movements  of  the 
yacht,  which  had  been  bound  nowhere  in  particular 
upon  a  pleasure  cruise. 

The  old  sailing-master  and  captain,  much  dis 
tressed  by  the  accident  and  the  emergency  in  which 
he  found  himself  suddenly  plunged,  decided  that  his 
best  course,  in  fact  his  only  course,  was  to  get  back 
to  civilization  and  a  doctor  as  soon  as  possible.  He 
had  instantly  put  the  yacht  about  and  headed  for  the 
nearest  land  where  he  might  hope  to  get  suitable  care 
for  his  terribly  ill  young  employer.  He  pushed  the 
yacht  to  the  utmost  of  her  speed  and  in  three  weeks 
dropped  anchor  in  Honolulu  just  in  time  to  save  the 
young  man's  life.  Indeed,  for  a  long  time  it  was 
touch  and  go  as  to  whether  his  life  could  be  saved  at 
all,  and  it  was  not  until  nearly  a  year  had  elapsed 
before  the  Southern  Cross  sailed  for  San  Francisco 
with  a  weak  and  shaky  but  convalescing  owner  on 
her  quarterdeck. 

The  departure  of  Katharine  Brenton  with  Valen 
tine  Langford  had  made  a  great  sensation,  but  it  was 
nothing  to  the  sensation  which  raged  when  it  became 
known  that  Valentine  Langford  had  returned  with 
out  her.  She  was  a  woman  of  too  much  importance, 
she  had  played  too  large  a  part  in  the  affairs  of  the 
world,  civilization  had  manifested  too  much  interest 
in  her,  to  allow  her  to  drop  out  of  its  sight  without 


The  Coming  of  the  World  183 

at  least  making  an  effort  to  find  her.  The  position 
of  Mr.  Valentine  Langford  became  interestingly 
difficult  in  the  face  of  a  storm  of  inquiry.  Mr. 
Langford's  previous  marriage  was,  unfortunately  for 
him,  unknown,  but  the  world  had  had  so  complete 
and  adequate  an  idea  of  the  terms  of  the  union  which 
had  been  entered  upon  so  blithely  between  Langford 
and  Miss  Brenton  that  the  first  question  that  met 
him  when  he  came  back  alone  was  as  to  which  one 
had  repented.  Had  the  woman  come  to  her  senses,. 
had  the  man  grown  tired  of  her,  had  they  parted, 
and  where  was  the  woman?  These  were  the  queries 
which  were  put  to  him  with  the  direct  simplicity  of 
the  American  public  through  its  imperious  represen 
tatives,  the  reporters.  And  to  these  questions  Mr. 
Langford  could  return  no  adequate  answer  whatever 
except  the  truth,  which  he  could  not  bring  himself  to 
tell.  He  declared  that  she  had  left  the  yacht  in  the 
South  Seas,  that  he  did  not  know  her  present  where 
abouts,  and  refused  to  say  anything  further  privately 
or  in  public.  Miss  Brenton  had  no  near  relations; 
what  was  everybody's  business  was  nobody's,  and 
presently  public  interest  in  her  declined.  She  and 
her  philosophy  were  practically  forgotten  by  all  but 
Langford  himself. 

Fortune,  which  had  done  him  some  evil  turns, 
here,  however,  interposed  to  his  advantage.  The 
lady  who  legally  bore  his  name  departed  this  life 
and  left  him  a  free  man.  Brute  though  he  had  been. 


184  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

Langford  was  not  without  some  strong  ideas  of  honor 
and  decency.  Indeed,  he  had  enjoyed  long  and  undis 
turbed  hours  for  meditation  upon  his  sins  of  omis 
sion  and  commission  during  his  period  of  convales 
cence,  and  the  calm  consideration  of  his  character 
and  previous  career  had  done  him  good.  At  heart, 
in  spite  of  his  brutal  conduct,  for  which  drink  had 
largely  been  responsible,  he  was  a  gentleman,  and 
capable  of  things  fine  and  high  under  the  stimulus 
of  some  really  great  emotion.  He  had  come  to  real 
ize,  to  put  it  mildly,  what  an  utter  fool  he  had  been, 
to  say  nothing  of  his  villainy.  What  had  led  him 
to  this  realization  had  been  the  remembrance  of  the 
hours  he  had  passed  with  Katharine  Brenton  before 
the  clouds  had  arisen  which  had  culminated  in  that 
awful  storm,  the  recollection  of  which  fairly  made 
him  shudder.  However  he  had  deceived  her  by  pro 
fessed  adherence  to  her  wild  theories  and  impossible 
philosophies,  he  had  honestly  loved  her,  and  associa 
tion  with  her  had  been  of  benefit  to  him.  If  he  only 
had  not  given  away  to  his  temper  and  his  appetite ! 
If  it  had  not  been  for  his  former  obligation ! 

He  had  married  his  wife  in  a  moment  of  boyish 
infatuation.  The  union  had  been  impossible  almost 
from  the  first.  She  was  little  more  than  an  adven 
turess,  much  older  than  he,  wrho  had  entrapped  him 
for  his  money.  There  had  been  a  separation  on  a 
liberal  financial  basis,  to  which  the  woman  had 
readily,  even  cheerfully,  agreed,  and  he  had  no  lin- 


The  Coming  of  the  World  185 

gering  remains  of  affection  to  hold  him  back.  Her 
death  was  only  a  relief  to  him.  He  felt  that  he 
owed  reparation  to  Katharine  Brenton,  and  he  was 
the  more  willing  to  pay  the  debt  because  he  was 
honestly  and  genuinely  in  love  with  her  so  far  as  a 
man  of  his  temperament  could  be  in  love  with  a 
woman.  He  wanted  to  make  amends  for  his  treat 
ment.  He  would  have  given  anything  he  possessed 
to  have  been  able  to  say  to  her  how  ashamed  he  was 
of  all  that  he  had  done,  and  to  beg  her  to  forgive 
him  and  marry  him. 

She  had  vanished,  however,  from  under  the  sun, 
and  he  no  more  than  the  rest  of  the  world  knew  her 
whereabouts.  He  did  not  believe  that  she  was  dead 
because  he  did  not  wish  to  believe  it,  perhaps,  and 
he  would  not  believe  that  she  was  dead  until  he  had 
some  positive  evidence  of  it.  He  had  figured  out 
the  chances  many  times;  he  had  discussed  them  pro 
and  con  with  the  veteran  seaman  who  commanded 
his  ship,  and  he  was  able  shrewdly  enough  to  fore 
cast  to  a  certain  extent  her  movements.  He  knew 
that  she  would  run  the  boat  as  fast  and  as  far  as  the 
gasoline  would  carry  her  and  then  she  would  drift. 
He  believed  that  with  the  empty  gasoline  tanks  for 
ward  and  aft  the  boat  was  practically  unsinkable. 
It  was  possible  that  she  could  have  drifted  upon 
some  island.  She  might  be  alive  in  the  South  Seas 
somewhere  at  that  hour. 

The  death  of  his  father  and  the  necessity  for  the 


1 86  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

administration  of  the  vast  interests  of  the  bonanza 
king's  estate  prevented  him  from  at  once  engaging 
upon  the  search  which  he  promised  himself  he  would 
make,  but  he  expedited  matters,  sometimes  to  his 
own  loss,  as  rapidly  as  he  could,  and  after  nearly  a 
year's  stay  in  San  Francisco  he  found  himself  in 
position  to  undertake  his  quest.  For  a  year  there 
after  he  and  the  Southern  Cross  traversed  the  unex 
plored,  unvisited  waters  of  the  South  Seas.  He  had 
landed  upon  island  after  island  which  he  had  exam 
ined  with  minute  particularity.  Some  he  had  found 
inhabited  by  natives  whom,  through  interpreters  he 
had  procured,  he  questioned  unavailingly.  He  ran 
across  stray  vessels  trading  among  the  islands,  and 
through  them,  with  constantly  increasing,  ever-wid 
ening  mediums,  he  carried  on  his  search,  but  without 
results.  In  thus  sweeping  the  Pacific  he  had  visited 
everything  that  was  charted  and  all  that  he  could 
find  that  was  not,  and  was  now  homeward  bound, 
convinced  that  the  launch  must  have  foundered  and 
that  he  would  never  solve  the  mystery  of  her  disap 
pearance. 

So  assiduously  had  he  prosecuted  his  search  that 
the  crew  of  the  Southern  Cross,  who  knew  little 
as  to  the  cause  of  his  eagerness,  with  the  exception 
of  the  shipmaster,  looked  upon  him  as  a  harmless 
visionary.  They  had  been  away  so  long  and  had 
visited  so  many  islands  with  so  much  hardship,  often 
times  with  so  much  danger  from  uncharted  reefs  in 


The  Coming  of  the  World  187 

the  unknown  seas,  that  they  were  one  and  all  wildly 
anxious  to  return  from  the,  to  them,  aimless  wander 
ing.  If  he  had  communicated  to  them  at  the  first 
his  quest,  they  would  have  shared  his  eagerness,  but 
he  kept  it  to  himself  as  he  had  kept  his  own  counsel 
in  San  Francisco,  and  he  straitly  charged  his  sailing- 
master  to  say  nothing  of  it. 

Consequently  the  lookout  on  the  fore-topmast 
crosstrees  on  a  certain  summer  morning,  catching 
sight  of  a  dim,  blue  haze  on  the  horizon  far  off  to 
starboard,  made  no  report  of  it.  What  was  the 
use?  It  would  only  delay  matters,  and  they  were 
within  a  few  weeks  of  Honolulu  now,  and  another 
fortnight  beyond  Hawaii  would  bring  them  back  to 
the  United  States,  for  which  they  all  longed  with 
the  desire  of  men  who  had  been  away  from  home 
and  confined  to  the  narrow  decks  of  a  cruising  ship 
for  over  a  year. 

Something — as  to  whether  it  was  Providence  or 
not  he  was  somewhat  doubtful  in  his  mind  after 
ward — brought  Langford  on  deck  hours  before  his 
usual  time  for  rising.  The  watch  was  in  charge  of 
a  rather  sleepy,  stupid  second  officer,  unimaginative 
and  unobservant.  He  had  not  noticed  the  land, 
which  it  was  difficult  to  see  from  the  deck  at  any 
rate,  especially  as  it  did  not  lie  between  the  yacht  and 
the  sun,  and  as  it  had  not  been  reported  from  the 
masthead,  he  knew  nothing  of  it. 

Langford  had  found  sleep  impossible.    The  year 


1 88  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

of  search,  the  constant  disappointment,  the  press 
ing  sense  of  mystery,  the  feeling  that  his  conduct  was 
indeed  irreparable,  had  preyed  upon  him.  He  was 
thin,  worn,  nervous  and  irritable.  He  walked  up 
and  down  the  deck  in  the  cool  of  the  morning,  think 
ing.  For  three  years  practically  he  had  had  this 
woman  before  his  eyes  as  the  goal  of  his  efforts. 
Now  she  was  gone  and  he  must  concentrate  his  life 
upon  something  else.  He  gazed  languidly  and  in 
differently  about  the  horizon,  his  unpractised  eye 
noticing  nothing  for  a  time.  Suddenly,  however, 
staring  off  to  starboard  listlessly  during  a  pause  in 
his  steady  tramp,  he  thought  he  caught  a  glimpse  of 
light.  He  looked  idly  in  the  direction  whence  the 
reflection  had  come  for  a  few  moments  and  saw  it 
again;  a  thin  cloud  of  smoke,  or  was  it  haze,  rose 
above  it.  He  was  puzzled  by  it,  of  course,  and 
stood  staring.  The  concentration  in  his  gaze,  he 
thought,  discovered  to  him  a  cloudy  blink  in  the 
gray  of  the  dawn  which  might  mean  land.  He  knew 
there  was  no  land  charted  in  those  seas,  for  he  had 
carefully  studied  the  chart  the  night  before,  saying 
nothing  to  anyone,  as  he  had  become  somewhat  sen 
sitive  about  the  matter. 

He  ran  down  the  companion  ladder  into  his  cabin 
and  fetched  thence  a  new  and  powerful  glass  which, 
upon  his  return  to  the  deck,  he  focussed  upon  the 
distant  point  of  light.  By  the  aid  of  these  wonder 
ful  binoculars  he  made  out  what  it  was.  He  was  a 


The  Coming  of  the  World  189 

man  of  quick  decision  and  purpose.  He  called  the 
officer  to  him,  pointed  to  the  light,  and  handed  the 
jglass  to  the  man  with  the  question: 

"What  do  you  make  of  that,  Mr.  Holtzman?" 

The  officer  took  a  quick  look  through  the  glasses, 
handed  them  back  to  their  owner,  and  said  laconi 
cally: 

"  Land !     Fire !     Smoke,  sir." 

"Head  the  yacht  to  that  island  at  once." 

'  Very  good,  sir,"  said  the  officer,  turning  to  the 
man  at  the  wheel  and  ordering  the  helm  to  be  put 
aport. 

The  yacht's  bows  swung  slowly  round  until  the 
island  and  the  light  were  both  dead  ahead. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Holtzman,"  said  Langford  when  the 
maneuver  was  completed,  "who  is  at  the  mast 
head?" 

"  I'll  see,  sir,"  answered  the  second  officer,  step 
ping  forward. 

"  Bring  him  to  me,"  said  the  owner  as  the  officer 
turned  away. 

In  a  few  moments  the  officer  came  back  to  the 
quarterdeck  followed  by  one  of  the  seamen.  The 
man  looked  very  much  frightened,  for  Langford  was 
in  a  towering  passion,  and  when  he  was  in  a  pas 
sion  he  was  not  a  pleasant  spectacle. 

"Did  you  see  that  island  yonder?"  began  the 
/>wner  fiercely. 

"  I  er  " 

•L  «  .  .          Cl  .  .  .  . 


190  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

"  Answer  me ! " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  man  desperately. 

"You  did?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Why  didn't  you  report  it?" 

The  man  hesitated,  shifted  from  one  foot  to  an 
other,  muttered  something  about  a  wild-goose  chase. 
Carried  away  by  anger,  Langford  sprang  at  him  and 
would  have  done  him  bodily  violence  had  he  not 
been  quickly  restrained  by  the  second  officer. 

"  Mr.  Langford,  sir,"  cried  Holtzman,  grasping 
him  tightly,  "  recover  yourself,  sir." 

The  check  was  sufficient. 

"  Get  forward!  "  cried  Langford,  controlling  him 
self  with  difficulty.  "  Mr.  Holtzman,  send  for  Cap 
tain  Harper." 

"  Very  good,   sir,"   answered  the  officer. 

"  And  meanwhile  you  are  to  keep  straight  for 
that  island  until  further  orders." 

In  a  few  moments  the  old  captain  presented  him 
self  before  the  owner. 

"Harper,"  began  the  young  man  imperiously, 
"  the  lookout  this  morning  deliberately  failed  to  re 
port  that  land,  that  island  yonder.  I  want  him 
disrated  and  his  pay  stopped.  Put  him  in  the 
brig  and  set  him  ashore  at  the  first  civilized 
port." 

''  Very  well,  sir,"  said  the  old  sailing-master,  not 
daring  to  remonstrate  under  such  circumstances. 


The  Coming  of  the  World  191 

"Do  you  know  that  island?"  continued  Lang- 
ford. 

"  No,  sir,"  answered  Harper.  "  It's  not  set  down 
in  any  chart.  I  have  never  heard  of  it  before." 

"  Harper,"  said  the  other,  laying  his  hand  upon 
the  old  man's  arm,  "  it  is  our  last  chance.  We  are 
passing  out  of  the  region  of  these  islands.  If  she  be 
not  there,  we  shall  never  find  her." 

"  I  am  afraid  not,  sir." 

"  I  have  an  idea  that  our  quest  is  going  to  be  suc 
cessful  this  morning,"  returned  Langford,  eagerness 
flushing  his  thin  face. 

"  I  hope  so,  sir,"  answered  the  other.  "There  is 
somebody  on  the  island  evidently,  for  they  have 
lighted  a  fire.  It  should  be  a  signal.  It  might  be 
savages  of  some  kind." 

"  It's  not  likely.  Why  should  they  signal  a  ship? 
And  how  should  there  be  savages  on  a  lonely  island 
like  this  five  hundred  miles  away  from  any  other 
land?  You  may  depend  upon  it,  captain,  'tis  some 
castaway  who  wants  help,  and  why  not  she?  In 
deed,  I  am  sure  it  must  be." 

Something  of  the  man's  confidence  infected  the  old 
sailor.  He  took  up  the  glass  from  where  it  lay  on 
the  cabin  skylight  and  going  forward  studied  the 
island. 

"  It's  one  of  those  volcanic  islands,  I  take  it,"  he 
said  as  he  came  back.  "  It  seems  to  be  covered  with 
trees.  There  is  a  hill  rising  from  the  midst  of  it. 


192  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

The  fire  is  on  the  top.  There  should  be  an  en 
circling  reef  round  about  it  and  deep  water  up  to  the 
very  barrier." 

"Could  you  see  anything  else?" 

"  No,  sir.  No  glass  would  reveal  anything  more 
than  that  at  this  distance.  Try  for  yourself,  Mr. 
Langford." 

He  handed  the  binoculars  to  the  owner,  but  his 
own  scrutiny  revealed  nothing  more  than  the  cap 
tain  had  told  him. 

"How  are  we  going  now?"  he  said,  looking  over 
the  side. 

"About  eight,  I  should  judge,  sir,"  answered 
Harper. 

"  Let  us  have  full  speed  until  we  get  nearer." 

"  Very  good,  sir." 

The  captain  turned  and  spoke  a  word  to  the  sec 
ond  officer,  who  signaled  to  the  engine  room,  and  in 
a  few  moments  the  motion  of  the  great  vessel  through 
the  water  was  perceptibly  accelerated. 

"  Have  you  had  your  breakfast,  Mr.  Langford?  " 
asked  the  captain  at  last. 

"Not  yet." 

"  Then  if  you'll  allow  me,  sir,  I  think  you  would 
better  get  it.  We  won't  be  within  landing  distance 
of  that  island  for  an  hour  or  an  hour  and  a  half. 
In  fact,  we'll  presently  have  to  slow  down.  I  don't 
like  to  dash  in  full  tilt  so  near  land  through  these 


The  Coming  of  the  World  193 

unknown  waters,  and  you  will  do  well,  sir,  to  go  be 
low  and  get  a  bite  to  eat." 

'  Your  advice  is  good,"  said  Langford,  turning 
away  and  entering  the  cabin. 

Never  had  man  less  appetite  than  he.  Somehow, 
he  could  not  tell  why,  he  felt  certain  that  this,  which 
would  be  his  last  attempt,  would  not  prove  fruit 
less;  that  his  search,  hitherto  unavailing,  would  now 
be  rewarded.  He  took  time  to  re-examine  the  chart 
of  those  seas.  It  was  quite  possible,  he  thought,  for 
the  woman  to  have  made  that  particular  island  be 
fore  them  from  the  point  at  which  she  had  left  the 
ship.  The  more  he  studied  it,  the  more  sure  he  be 
came.  At  last  he  forced  himself  to  break  his  fast, 
but  in  a  short  time  he  was  on  deck  once  more. 

The  island  was  perceptibly  nearer.  Captain  Har 
per  was  forward  staring  through  the  glass.  Run 
ning  along  the  waist,  Langford  joined  him  on  the 
forecastle. 

"Can  you  make  out  anything?"  said  the  young 
man,  catching  the  old  one  by  the  arm. 

"Aye,"  was  the  answer. 

"Is  she  there?"  he  asked  hoarsely,  his  heart  in 
his  mouth. 

"  There  is  a  figure  on  the  weather  side  of  the  fire 
yonder." 

"  A  figure !  "  asked  Langford,  trembling  so  he 
could  scarcely  control  himself.  "Is  it  a  woman?" 


194  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

"  I  can't  tell.     It's  too  far  off." 

"  Give  me  the  glass." 

"  I  make  out  another  figure.  There  are  two  of 
them,"  returned  Harper,  slowly  lowering  the  glass 
and  handing  it  to  Langford. 

'  Two !  "  cried  the  other,  rapidly  focussing  the 
glass,  disappointment  in  his  tone  which  he  strove  to 
keep  out  of  his  heart.  "You  are  right,"  he  said  at 
last,  "  there  are  two  figures  there,  but  'tis  impossible 
to  make  them  out." 

He  handed  the  glass  back  to  the  captain,  who  in 
his  turn  fixed  it  again  upon  the  island. 

"  They  are  going  down  the  hill,"  said  Harper.  "  I 
have  lost  them  among  the  trees."  "  We  are  ap 
proaching  swiftly,"  he  continued.  "  Mr.  Holtzman, 
half  speed,  if  you  please." 

Bells  jangled  below  as  Mr.  Holtzman  rapidly  set 
the  indicator,  and  the  speed  of  the  yacht  was  quickly 
checked.  She  still  approached  the  island  with  suffi 
cient  rapidity,  however,  and  after  perhaps  fifteen 
minutes  of  easy  going  Captain  Harper  signaled  her 
to  stop,  fearful  of  any  nearer  approach. 

"What  now?  "  asked  the  owner. 

"  I  think  we  better  not  chance  it  nearer,  sir," 
said  the  captain.  "  It  isn't  more  than  a  half  mile  to 
the  shore.  Shall  I  call  away  the  launch,  or  will  you 
be  rowed?  " 


The  Coming  of  the  World  195 

The  launch  was  stowed  amidships;  the  gig  swung 
from  the  davits.  It  would  be  quicker  to  take  the 

gig- 

"  I'll  be  rowed,"  said  Langford. 

And  in  a  moment  the  voice  of  the  boatswain's  mate 
could  be  heard  calling  away  the  crew.  All  hands  were 
now  on  deck.  The  conversations  between  the  cap 
tain  and  the  owner  had  been  heard  by  many  and 
their  tenor  communicated  to  all.  Consequently  when 
the  gig,  manned  by  six  of  the  best  oarsmen  in  the 
ship,  dropped  alongside  and  Langford  descended  to 
the  stern  sheets  and  took  the  tiller  in  his  hand,  the 
crew  spontaneously  manned  the  rail  and  sent  him  off 
with  three  ringing  cheers. 

It  did  not  take  the  men  long  to  cover  the  distance 
between  the  motionless  ship  and  the  island.  As  they 
approached  the  latter,  they  perceived  the  barrier 
reef,  which,  unless  they  could  find  an  opening,  would 
effectually  prevent  their  getting  on  the  shore.  Lang- 
ford  swung  the  boat  about  at  a  judicious  distance 
from  the  reef  over  which  the  sea  always  broke  with 
more  or  less  force,  and  closely  scrutinized  the  line 
of  foam.  The  coxswain  of  the  boat,  who  rowed  the 
stroke  oar,  also  followed  with  his  eyes  the  jagged 
reef.  It  was  he  who  detected  the  two  figures  on  the 
beach  of  the  island  waving  palm  branches  and  ap 
parently  pointing.  He  called  the  attention  of  Lang- 


196  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

ford  to  the  figures,  and  suggested  that  the  inhabit 
ants  were  trying  to  show  an  opening  through  the 
barrier. 

Following  the  indicated  direction,  presently  smooth 
water  was  discovered.  Langford  headed  the  boat 
for  it.  The  men  bent  to  their  oars  and  soon  parted 
the  quiet  waters  of  the  lagoon.  The  two  figures 
stood  in  plain  view  upon  the  beach  still  too  far  for 
those  in  the  boat  to  make  out  who  or  what  they  were. 
Langford  could  only  see  that  one  was  taller  than  the 
other;  that  both  were  dressed  in  some  sort  of  loose 
tunics  that  fell  to  the  knee  and  left  the  arms  bare. 
He  was  disappointed,  but  yet  hopeful.  The  suspense 
was  almost  unbearable.  The  men  were  doing  their 
utmost,  seeing  the  anxiety  in  his  face,  but  their  ut 
most  was  too  slow  for  the  impatient  man. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

PAST    AND    PRESENT 

"  How  long  do  you  think  it  will  be  before  they  will 
be  here?"  asked  the  man  after  they  had  sat  silent 
on  the  hill  to  windward  of  the  fire  watching  the 
trail  of  smoke. 

"  I  should  think  that  it  would  be  perhaps  an  hour 
or  a  little  more.  Why?"  she  returned  after  a  mo 
ment's  pause.  "Are  you  so  anxious  to  have  them 
here?" 

For  the  life  of  her  she  could  not  keep  the  bitter 
ness  out  of  her  question.  The  man  looked  at  her 
in  surprise.  She  had  never  lost  her  temper  before 
him  in  the  years  they  had  been  together.  There  had 
been  something  singularly  simple,  free,  and  unre 
strained  in  their  life.  Nothing  had  ever  occurred 
to  vex  her,  at  least  not  after  the  man  had  known 
enough  to  notice  it.  She  was  a  woman  of  sunny, 
even  temper  under  any  circumstances,  and  she  had 
felt  it  incumbent  upon  her  to  be  as  nearly  perfect  as 
possible  since  she  represented  humanity  to  him,  nor 
had  it  been  a  difficult  task  for  her  to  be  gentle.  This 
flash  of  resentment,  therefore,  struck  him  as  some 
thing  entirely  novel.  In  his  amazement  for  a  mo 
ment  he  forgot  the  injustice  of  it,  the  unkindness  of 

197 


198  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

it.     He  looked  at  her  strangely  and  said  to  her  with 
a  little  touch  of  severity: 

"  You  know  that  it  is  not  that,  Woman." 

He  had  no  terms  of  endearment.  He  had  never 
heard  the  words  that  lovers  use,  and  although  he 
knew  that  her  name  was  Katharine  and  he  be 
lieved  that  his  was  John,  and  though  sometimes  they 
made  use  of  these  names,  generally  they  called  each 
other  by  the  broad  generic  terms  which  stood  for 
sex.  Names  are  only  for  differentiation  and  iden 
tification  in  any  event,  and  here  was  no  need  for  such 
appellations.  She  loved  to  call  him  "  Man,"  and 
she  loved  to  hear  him  call  her  "  Woman." 

"You  know,"  he  said,  "that  'tis  not  I  who  have 
brought  the  world  upon  us." 

"  I  was  unjust,  unkind,"  she  answered  quickly 
enough,  stretching  out  her  hand  to  him.  "  You  must 
forgive  me.  You  see  even  the  approach  of  yonder 
ship  brings  bitterness  into  our  hearts  and  into  our 
speech." 

"  I  guessed  that  it  would  be  so  when  I  saw  you 
weep,"  said  the  man.  "  I  wish  now  that  I  had  not 
given  you  the  flint  and  steel ;  that  I  had  not  allowed 
you  to  light  the  beacon." 

"  My  friend,  it  had  to  be.  Don't  reproach  your 
self  with  that.  Sooner  or  later  this  island  would 
have  been  visited  by  someone.  Sooner  or  later 
the  ship  would  have  come  to  fetch  us  off." 


The  Coming  of  the  World  199 

"  But  we  were  so  happy  here,"  he  protested. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  "  but  not  since  yesterday." 

"  Are  you  unhappy  because  I  love  you  ?  " 

"  Because,"  she  made  swift  to  reply,  "  I  am  no 
longer  sure  that  you  will  love  me  always." 

"But  you  love  me,  do  you  not?"  he  questioned 
eagerly. 

"Yes." 

"  Are  you  sure  of  yourself?  " 

"  Absolutely." 

"Why  not  of  me,  then?  Am  I  less  true?  Do  I 
love  less  than  you  ?  " 

"Not  now." 

"What  is  the  difference  between  us,  then?" 

"  I  have  seen  the  world  and  you  have  not." 

"  But  I  tell  you  that  will  make  no  difference ; 
that  .  . 

"  No  man  can  say  that  who  has  no  experience  to 
draw  upon." 

"  You  are  my  mentor,"  said  the  man  gently.  "  You 
have  taught  me  all  I  know,  but  sometimes  I  think 
that  about  some  things  I  know  more  than  you,  and 
this  is  one  thing  of  which  I  am  sure." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  woman,  "  you  can  be  sure  so  long 
as  conditions  remain  as  they  are  at  present,  but  other 
times,  other  manners  .  .  ." 

"  You  had  something  to  tell  me?  "  interrupted  the 
other  swiftly. 


2OO  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

The  woman  nodded. 

'  You  said  yesterday  you  would  tell  me  to-day. 
Why  not  tell  me  now?  " 

"Because     ...     ." 

She  hesitated. 

"  Are  you  afraid  to  tell  me?  ' 

"  Yes,"  she  said. 

"Afraid  of  what?" 

"Of  losing  you." 

"  Banish  that  fear." 

"But  'tis  not  that  that  keeps  me  silent." 

"What,  then?" 

"  I  would  have  you  hear  the  world's  comment  on 
what  I  say  when  I  say  it." 

"  The  world's  comment !  What  is  the  world's 
comment  to  me?  " 

"A  test,  a  trial  of  your  feelings!  If  it  breaks 
my  heart,  you  must  know." 

"  If  you  feel  that  way  about  it,"  said  the  man  res 
olutely,  "  you  need  tell  me  nothing  at  all." 

It  was  a  brave  thing  to  say,  for  her  mysterious 
words  filled  him  with  dubiety  and  dismay.  He  had 
no  idea  what  it  was  that  she  could  tell  him.  He 
had  no  experience  by  and  through  which  to  embody 
her  vague  hints  into  something  real  and  tangible. 
He  knew  that  he  was  terribly  grieved,  and  but  that 
he  had  no  way  to  describe  the  pain  of  jealousy,  he 
would  have  said  that  he  was  racked  with  that  un 
happy  emotion. 


The  Coming  of  the  World  201 

"  Tell  me  nothing,"  he  repeated  again,  "  if  it 
grieves  you." 

"Are  you  afraid  of  the  test?"  she  asked  swiftly. 

"  I  am  afraid  of  nothing  except  losing  you." 

"  I  am  not  worthy  of  you,"  returned  the  woman, 
"  as  I  told  you,  but  if  you  will  have  me,  if  you  will 
take  me  when  I  have  said  what  I  must  say  and  when 
the  world  has  said  what  it  will  say,  then  I  shall  be 
yours  so  long  as  I  live." 

"  It  is  well,"  said  he  man.  "  I  wait  the  ship  now 
eagerly,  that  I  may  show  you  that  what  I  have  said 
is  true." 

"The  vessel  is  nearer  now,"  she  said  at  last,  ris 
ing  from  where  they  had  been  seated  together  upon 
the  grass  absorbed  in  each  other,  and  pointing  sea 
ward. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered.  "  I  can  even  see  figures  upon 
deck." 

"Your  brother  men." 

"  Will  there  be  women  on  the  ship?" 

"  I  do  not  know,"  she  answered  quickly.  "  It  isn't 
likely.  Do  you  wish  to  see  other  women?  " 

"  None,"  was  the  instant  answer.  "  I  wondered  if 
my  brothers  would  bring  your  sisters.  That  was 
all." 

There  was  absolutely  no  dissimulation  about  the 
man.  There  had  been  no  coquetry  about  her.  He 
would  simply  have  failed  entirely  to  understand  what 
it  was.  He  was  as  honest,  as  straightforward,  as 


2O2  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

absolute  simplicity  and  sincerity  must  ever  be,  and 
she  had  met  him  exactly  on  his  own  ground.  It  was 
impossible,  therefore,  for  her  to  misapprehend  his 
mere  casual  interest. 

She  stood  quietly  studying  the  approaching  ves 
sel.  As  she  did  so,  it  came  to  her  mind  that  there 
was  something  strangely  familiar  about  the  oncoming 
ship.  She  stared  longer  and  the  conviction  grew 
upon  her.  When  she  realized  it,  she  clasped  her 
hand  to  her  heart  with  a  sudden  gasp  and  turned  a 
white  face  upon  him.  He  was  all  solicitude  in  an 
instant. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  he  cried.  "  Your  face  is 
white;  you  look  so  strangely." 

"  It  is  a  sudden  pain,"  she  gasped,  terror  and  dis 
may  constricting  her  throat. 

She  wavered.  He  thought  she  was  going  to  fall. 
He  stepped  closer  to  her  and  put  his  arm  about  her. 

"No,  no!"  she  said,  repulsing  him. 

It  was  like  the  first  command  she  had  given  him 
in  those  bygone  days  when  he  had  stood  dumbly  be 
fore  her. 

"  No,  no !  "  she  pushed  him  away.  "  I  shall  be 
all  right." 

"  And  has  the  approach  of  men  deprived  me  of 
the  privilege  of  touching  you?"  he  asked  wistfully. 
"What  is  the  matter?" 

"  Don't  ask  me  now,"  she  answered.  "I  :.  ,..  ., 
I  ...  cannot  explain." 


The  Coming  of  the  World  203 

The  vessel  was  nearer  now  and,  as  she  stared,  it- 
came  to  a  stop  and  swung  broadside  to  the  reef. 
There  was  no  mistaking  it.  It  was  the  Southern 
Cross.  She  knew  it  as  well  as  she  knew  her  own 
face.  The  thing  which  she  had  dreaded  so  when 
she  fled  from  that  vessel  in  the  launch,  which  she 
had  dreaded  for  a  time  in  the  first  period  of  her 
sojourn  on  the  island,  had  come  to  pass.  It  was  the 
very  yacht  from  which  she  had  escaped.  Undoubt 
edly  it  bore  the  man  from  whom  she  had  fled.  He 
had  come  to  claim  her.  Of  all  the  teeming  mil 
lions  which  the  world  held,  this  was  he  whom  she 
would  fain  have  avoided.  Rather  anyone  and  every 
one  had  come  to  her  than  he !  What  would  happen 
when  these  men  met?  The  story  that  she  would 
have  told  him  to-day  in  her  own  way  had  the  ship 
not  appeared,  the  story  that  she  would  have  told 
him  on  her  decks  had  that  ship  been  other  than  it 
was,  he  must  now  learn  by  the  brutal  force  of  cir 
cumstances,  through  some  compelling  necessity  which 
she  could  not  in  any  way  influence  or  alter.  She 
loathed  the  man  who  was  coming  toward  her.  Her 
Christianity  trembled  in  the  balance.  She  would 
fain  have  called  invectives  down  upon  his  head,  and 
for  the  moment  she  swept  the  whole  sex  together 
in  one  unreasoning  hatred  and  resentment  in  which 
the  man  of  the  island  participated.  What  sorry  jest 
had  blind  fate  played  upon  her? 

She  moved  farther  away  from  her  companion  un- 


204  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

«ler  the  constraint  of  these  thoughts,  and  when  he 
would  have  approached  her  nearer  she  flamed  upon 
him  in  sudden  anger  that  left  him  appalled.  But 
under  the  influence  of  it  he  kept  his  distance.  She 
saw  the  way  of  the  yacht  checked.  She  saw  the 
boat  dropped  from  the  davits  and  manned  by  the 
men.  She  saw  a  figure,  too  far  off  to  recognize, 
but  which  she  divined  must  be  his,  descend  the 
battens  from  the  gangway.  She  saw  the  little  boat 
headed  toward  the  shore.  Then  she  turned  to  the 
man.  He  was  standing  with  folded  arms,  his  brow 
as  black  as  midnight,  staring  out  to  sea.  He  knew 
nothing,  understood  nothing,  comprehended  noth 
ing,  suspected  nothing.  His  only  realization  was 
that  she,  his  gentle  goddess,  whom  he  had  loved,  was 
angry  with  him,  so  far  as  he  was  concerned  with 
out  rhyme  or  reason  or  cause. 

The  stoppage  of  the  ship,  the  lowering  of  the  boat, 
its  approach  to  the  island,  were  now  matters  of  in 
difference  to  him.  She  was  angry.  He  could  think 
of  nothing  else,  and  there  was  bewilderment  in  his 
dismay.  Nothing  had  given  him  power  to  solve 
the  enigma  of  her  conduct.  Where  she  gazed  with 
serious  intentness,  he  looked  listlessly.  Her  heart 
smote  her  again.  The  sense  of  justice  upon  which 
she  prided  herself  came  to  her  rescue.  She  stepped 
close  to  him  and  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm. 

"  Forgive  me !  "  she  murmured,  and  her  heart 
leaped  within  her  bosom  to  meet  the  great  flush  of 


The  Coming  of  the  World  205 

pleasure  in  his  face  as  he  responded  instantly  to  her 
caress  and  her  appeal. 

"  What  has  troubled  you,"  he  said  gently,  "  that 
you  are  angry  with  me?" 

"  You  will  know  soon  enough,"  was  the  answer. 
"  But  see,  the  boat  approaches  the  reef.  It  would 
be  best  for  us  to  go  to  the  shore  and  direct  them,  if 
we  can,  to  the  entrance,  otherwise  they  will  not  be 
able  to  make  a  landing,  and  they  may  turn  in  their 
search  for  an  entrance  and  be  compelled  to  the  long 
row  around  the  island." 

"  And  if  they  never  landed,"  said  the  man,  "  would 
you  be  happy?  If  they  went  away  without  seeing 
us,  would  you  believe  me  without  the  test?" 

"  My  friend,"  said  the  woman  gently. 

She  had  often  called  him  that  during  their  long 
intercourse,  and  it  was  a  name  he  had  loved  until 
yesterday.  Now  he  would  fain  have  had  something 
near  and  dearer. 

"  My  friend,"  she  began,  "  it  is  too  late  now.  Such 
is  the  temper  of  men  that  having  once  been  at 
tracted  to  this  island  they  would  not  be  satisfied 
until  they  had  visited  it.  They  saw  the  fire.  They 
know  that  human  beings  kindled  it  and  for  some  pur 
pose.  They  won't  go  away  until  they  find  out  who 
did  It  and  why." 

'*  Would  that  I  had  never  given  you  that  flint  and 
steel !  "  he  cried  bitterly. 

She  smiled  at  him. 


206  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

u  It  was  my  appeal,  you  remember,  and  if  you 
repine  again,  I  shall  think  you  fear  the  test.  Come, 
let  us  go  down  to  the  shore." 

"  You  said  you  know  men,"  the  man  asked  as  they 
threaded  their  way  through  the  trees  and  down  the 
hill  along  the  familiar  path,  "  do  you  know  any 
one  on  that  ship,  do  you  think?" 

The  question  was  an  absurd  one  under  almost  any 
other  circumstances  than  that.  Yet  chance  had 
shown  him  the  one  point  in  her  armor,  and  his  inno 
cent  and  casual  question  had  driven  into  her  soul  a 
barb.  Evasion  would  have  been  easy.  Indeed,  his 
trust  in  her  was  so  great  that  deceit  would  have 
been  simple.  But  she  had  always  told  him  the  truth, 
and  she  could  not  begin  to  deceive  him  now. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "I  think  I  do." 

He  stopped  abruptly,  illumination  and  anguish, 
the  light  of  pain,  in  his  soul. 

"  Was  it  because  you  know  that  man  that  you  suf 
fered  GO  on  the  hill?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  again  forcing  herself  to  speak. 

"  Is  he  one  of  those  who  loved  you?  " 

"  He  said  so,  but      ..." 

"And  you,  did  you  love  him?" 

"  I  hated  him." 

"Why?"  asked  the  man  sternly.  "Had  he  in 
jured  you  in  some  way?" 

"  In  the  greatest  way,"  she  answered  with  deep- 


The  Coming  of  the   World  207 

ening  gravity.  And  here  her  sense  of  justice  pricked 
her.  "  But  it  was  partly  my  fault." 

"  And  have  you  forgiven  him?  "  he  asked  with  a 
little  softening  of  his  voice. 

To  him  forgiveness  was  as  natural  and  inevitable 
as  breathing.  In  his  ethics  there  was  no  other  course. 
He  had  never  had  anything  to  forgive,  be  it  remem 
bered.  She  was  not  so  true  to  her  standard  as  the 
man  she  had  taught.  The  pupil  was  more  de 
voted  than  the  master. 

"There  are  some  things,"  she  replied  bitterly, 
"  that  a  woman  never  forgives,  cannot  forgive." 

"What  things?"  he  persisted,  wondering  igno- 
rantly  as  to  her  meaning. 

"  Don't  ask  me,"  she  answered  impatiently.  "  I 
told  you  I  would  tell  you  the  story  to-day,  and  you 
will  have  to  wait  until  I  do." 

"  But  that  comment  of  the  world?" 

"  You  will  hear  it  from  that  man's  lips,  if  I  mis 
take  not,"  said  the  woman  wearily.  "  But  you  must 
press  me  no  further.  See,  they  are  close  to  the 
reef.  We  must  hasten." 

She  drew  her  hand  away  from  his  and  ran  rapidly 
to  the  beach.  Naturally  he  followed,  overtaking  her 
in  a  few  swift  steps  and  running,  as  was  his  wont,  by 
her  side.  If  he  had  stopped  to  indulge  in  the  luxury 
of  self-examination,  he  would  have  found  his  feel 
ings  in  such  a  turmoil  of  such  strange  emotions  as 


208  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

would  have  defied  classification  and  description.  Of 
but  two  things  was  he  very  clear:  that  he  loved  this 
woman,  and  that  in  some  way,  for  causes  unfathom 
able  and  not  present  to  him,  he  hated  the  man  or  the 
men  in  the  boat  off  shore. 

By  the  woman's  directions  just  before  they  reached 
the  shore,  the  man  picked  up  two  fallen  branches  of 
palm.  They  ran  to  the  beach  opposite  the  entrance 
and  waved  the  palm  branches  above  their  heads. 
It  was  too  far  for  the  voice  to  carry,  and  there  was 
too  much  noise  from  the  breakers  on  the  reef  if  the 
distance  had  been  shorter.  But  the  men  in  the  boat 
evidently  caught  sight  of  the  signals  and  understood 
them,  for  she  was  presently  headed  about  and  in  a 
few  moments  they  saw  her  prow  cut  the  blue  waters 
of  the  lagoon  through  the  one  entrance  to  the  bar 
rier.  The  man  and  woman  stood  silently,  a  little 
apart,  watching  the  swift  approach.  Unerringly 
steered,  the  boat  struck  the  gently  shelving  beach 
bows  on,  and  a  last  sturdy  pull  drove  her  fairly  out 
of  the  water.  The  man  in  the  stern  sheets  rose, 
stepped  forward  between  the  oarsmen,  and  leaped 
out  on  the  sand. 

The  present  was  in  touch  with  the  past,  conven 
tional  faced  the  unconventional,  civilization  and  the 
primitive  confronted  one  another. 


CHAPTER  XV 

ACCUSATION   AND   ADMISSION 

Now  that  the  great  moment  had  come — for  Lang- 
ford  had  at  once  recognized  the  woman  whom  he  had 
sought,  in  spite  of  her  strange  garb — he  became  sud 
denly  acutely  conscious  of  trivial  details  and  ac 
curately  responsible  to  matters  of  no  moment.  For 
instance,  he  stopped  near  the  bow  of  the  boat,  told 
the  coxswain  that  he  might  allow  the  men  to  land 
but  that  they  must  remain  close  to  the  beach  and 
within  easy  call,  and  directed  him  to  see  that  the 
boat  was  properly  secured.  Then  he  turned  and 
walked  slowly — singular  how  eager  he  had  been  for 
that  moment  and  how  tardy  he  was  in  availing  him 
self  of  it  when  it  came — toward  the  two  who  had 
stood  silently  watching  a  little  distance  away. 

He  was  dressed  in  a  boating  suit  of  white  and 
wore  a  white  yachting  cap.  He  was  distinctly  good- 
looking.  His  repentance,  his  anxiety,  his  disappoint 
ment,  had  refined  his  face  to  a  marked  degree  and 
he  was  not  an  unworthy  specimen  of  humanity  in 
appearance.  The  man  looked  at  him  with  vivid 
curiosity  and  a  sudden  sense  of  dismay  to  find  the 
newcomer  so  worthy  of  respect  on  the  ground  of  ap 
pearance  at  least. 

The  glance  that  Langford  gave  the  man  was  at 
209 


2IO  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

once  casual  and  indifferent.  His  whole  interest  was 
centered  upon  the  woman.  He  found  himself  trem 
bling  violently  in  spite  of  the  superhuman  efforts  he 
put  forth  at  control.  It  was  only  the  most  iron  con 
straint  indeed  that  enabled  him  to  approach  her  at 
all.  As  he  drew  near  to  her,  he  took  off  his  cap, 
bowed  to  her,  and  strove  to  speak  calmly. 

"  Katharine,"  he  said  at  last  hoarsely,  "  thank 
God  that  I  have  found  you ! " 

"  Woman,"  said  the  man  by  her  side,  stepping 
swiftly  forward  and  confronting  Langford,  "  who 
is  this  man?  " 

"  His  name,"  returned  the  woman  steadily,  "  is 
Valentine  Arthur  Langford." 

"  What  did  you  do  to  her,"  asked  the  man  with 
the  bluntest  possible  directness,  "  that  she  weeps  at 
the  thought  of  you;  that  she  is  filled  with  horror 
as  you  approach;  that  she  looks  at  you  as  she  does 
now?  I  have  never  seen  that  look  upon  her  face  since 
we  have  been  upon  this  island." 

Langford  turned  and  faced  the  man  as  these  sin 
gular  queries  were  put  to  him. 

"Who  is  this  man,  Katharine?"  he  asked,  an 
angry  flush  in  his  face. 

"  I  don't  know  for  certain,"  the  woman  answered, 
"but  I  think  his  name  is  .  .  ." 

"  What  has  my  name  to  do  with  it?  "  interrupted 
the  man  persistently.  "  Will  you  answer  my  ques 
tions?" 


The  Coming  of  the  World  21  r 

"  When  I  know  who  you  are  and  by  what  right 
you  put  them,  I  will  decide,"  was  Langford's  con 
temptuous  answer. 

The  woman  had  never  seen  her  companion  in  a 
temper,  but  he  was  perilously  near  the  breaking  point 
now,  and  Langford,  although  he  realized  it  not, 
had  never  been  and  would  never  be  in  so  much  dan 
ger  as  at  that  instant.  A  swift  glance  showed  her 
the  man  strung  to  the  very  outbreaking  point.  The 
woman  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm,  a  calming  touch. 

"  In  the  world,"  she  said,  striving  in  the  emer 
gency  for  the  calming  touch  of  the  commonplace, 
"people  are  presented  to  one  another." 

How  she  loathed  the  intruder!  She  thought  for  a 
moment  that  she  had  only  to  say  the  word  and  her 
island  companion  would  tear  him  to  pieces.  She 
wondered  how  far  after  all  she  had  succeeded  in  in 
stilling  into  his  mind  the  restraints  of  civilization. 
She  began  to  see  dimly  that  such  an  achievement 
was  beyond  the  power  of  any  single  individual;  that 
it  had  been  in  the  past  and  would  always  be  in  the 
future  the  result  of  the  co-operation  and  restraint 
of  the  many.  Yet  she  forced  herself  to  speak  evenly 
to  the  visitor. 

"  Mr.  Langford,  I  believe  this  man's  name  to  be 
John  Revell  Charnock.  I  believe  him  to  be  an 
American,  a  Virginian.  I  found  him  here  upon  the 
island." 

"  This   matters  nothing,"   said  the   islander.    "  I 


212  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

don't  care  what  this  man's  name  is,  or  who  he  is. 
I  want  to  know  why  he  distresses  you." 

"  Sir,"  said  Langford,  wondering  what  was  the 
best  tone  to  take  with  this  singular  being,  "  pray  let 
us  all  withdraw  yonder  to  the  shade  of  the  trees 
where  we  can  be  more  private." 

The  men  in  the  boat,  who  had  scrambled  out  upon 
the  sands,  had  been  eager  spectators  and  auditors  of 
everything  that  had  gone  on.  Their  curiosity  was 
greatly  excited  and  their  propinquity  was  evidently 
distasteful  to  Langford. 

"  You  are  refusing  to  answer  my  questions,"  said 
the  man.  "  I  will  not  be  put  off  further." 

"  Man,"  said  the  woman,  laying  her  hand  upon 
his  arm,  "  it  is  my  wish." 

"Oh,  if  you  wish  it." 

Without  a  word  he  led  the  way  rapidly  across  the 
beach  out  of  earshot,  but  not  out  of  sight,  among 
the  trees. 

"Now,"  he  said,  turning  and  facing  the  other  two. 

He  noticed  that  the  woman  was  ghastly  white  and 
that  Langford  was  scarcely  less  pale. 

"  Sir,"  said  Langford  firmly,  "  I  decline  to  answer 
your  questions.  I  have  business  with  this  lady  and 
with  her  alone.  It  does  not  concern  you,  and  I  beg 
you  to  withdraw  for  a  moment  and  give  me  free 
speech  with  her.  After  that  I  may  have  some  ques 
tions  to  put  to  you." 

"Everything  that  concerns  her  concerns  me,"  said 


The  Coming  of  the  World  213 

the  man  sternly.      "What  you  have  to  say  to  her 
must  be  said  to  me.     Speak  on." 

For  a  moment  Langford  looked  as  if  he  would 
have  sprung  upon  the  other,  but  he  was  so  clearly 
no  match  for  the  wild  stranger  that  discretion  came 
to  his  aid  and  kept  him  still.  Besides,  he  had  no 
wish  for  vulgar  brawling  then.  He  turned  to  the 
woman. 

"  Katharine,"  he  said,  "  I  have  much  to  say  to 
you.  Can't  you  make  this  man  hear  reason?" 

"  She  has  made  me  hear  reason  for  three  years," 
answered  the  man  for  her  before  she  could  speak, 
"  but  her  power  ends  in  this  hour." 

The  woman  looked  at  him  piteously  and  nodded 
her  head.  She  realized  that  the  thread  of  destiny 
was  taken  from  her  hands  and  forever. 

"  Mr.  Langford,  you  will  have  to  say  to  me  what 
ever  you  wish  before  this  man,"  she  said  at  last. 

"  Why,  'tis  impossible !  "  cried  the  other. 

"It  must  be." 

"  And,"  interposed  the  man,  "  you  shall  say  noth 
ing  to  her  until  you  have  answered  my  ques 
tions." 

'  There  must  be  no  violence,"  cried  the  woman, 
stepping  between  the  two.  "No  violence!" 

For  answer  the  man  gently,  but  with  irresistible 
force,  lifted  her  out  of  the  way.  She  knew  now 
where  he  got  the  strength  to  tear  the  rocky  wall, 
and  while  she  trembled,  she  thrilled. 


214  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

"  Katharine,"  said  Langford — to  do  him  justice 
he  was  not  afraid — "what  is  this  man  to  you?" 

"  I  am  nothing  to  her,"  answered  the  man,  "  ex 
cept  that  I  love  her." 

"And  you?"  said  Langford  hotly,  still  address 
ing  the  woman. 

"  She  loves  me,"  again  answered  the  other,  "  and 
we  were  happy  until  you  brought  the  world  to  our 
shores.  Since  then  she  has  wept.  Look  at  her 
now." 

"  My  God,"  exclaimed  Langford,  "  is  it  pos 
sible?" 

"  It  is  true,"  said  the  woman,  finding  voice  at  last 
and  looking  steadily  from  one  to  the  other. 

Langford's  emotion  passed  all  bounds.  He  had 
trembled  before;  he  shook  now  as  if  with  the  palsy. 
He  reached  out  and  caught  the  trunk  of  one  of 
the  trees  to  steady  himself. 

'What  are  you  to  this  man,  in  God's  name?" 
he  cried. 

"  Nothing.  Ever  since  I  fled  from  the  ship  on 
that  hateful  night  and  landed  on  this  island,  we  have 
been  friends,  good  friends.  He  was  a  castaway.  He 
had  forgotten  his  speech.  He  had  lived  here  alone 
since  he  was  a  child.  I  taught  him  everything." 

"To  love  you?"  queried  Langford  in  hot  and 
bitter  jealously. 

'  That  was  one  thing  I  learned  myself,"  answered 
the  man.  "And  yesterday  something,  you  might  call 


The  Coming  of  the  World 

it  chance,  but  I  call  it  God,"  said  the  man  gravely, 
"  discovered  to  us  the  love  we  bore  each  other,  and 
that  is  all." 

"  Are  you — forgive  the  question,"  said  Langford, 
addressing  the  woman,  and  there  was  agony  in  his 
voice,  "  as  you  were  when  I  left  you?" 

u  I  am  a  different  woman,  thank  God !  " 

"Different!" 

'  Yes,  but  in  the  sense  in  which  you  mean  the 
question,  I  am  just  as  I  was,  save  that  I  love  this 
man." 

"  But  you  had  no  right  to  love  him  or  anyone," 
burst  forth  Langford  bitteny. 

"And  do  you  reproach  me  with  that?" 

"Do  I?"  ' 

'  Think  of  your  wife." 

"She's  dead,"  said  the  man  hoarsely.  "I  have 
searched  the  world  for  you.  I  have  come  back  here 
to  make  amends,  to  own  my  fault,  to  marry  you  be- 
fcre  God  and  man,  to  take  you  back,  to  do  for 
you  as  long  as  I  shall  live  all  that  a  man  can 
do." 

There  was  such  genuine  passion  in  his  voice  and 
in  his  appeal  that  the  most  inimical  and  indifferent 
would  have  recognized  it,  but  there  was  no  response 
to  it  in  the  woman's  heart.  A  greater  love  than  his 
had  come  into  her  soul.  The  whole  current  of  her 
being  flowred  to  the  man  by  her  side. 

"  No,"  she  said.     "  Your  words  have  no  appeal 


216  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

for  me.  They  awaken  no  response  in  my  heart.  I 
love  this  man,  not  you." 

"  Have  you  thought,"  persisted  Langford  mean 
ingly,  "  that  you  are  not  free  to  love  anyone  but 
me?" 

"  By  heaven !  "  cried  the  man,  springing  forward, 
"  this  time  I  will  be  answered.  Why  is  she  not  free 
to  love  me  or  anyone  ?  " 

"  Because,"  said  the  other  resolutely,  "  before  she 
came  into  your  life  she  belonged  to  me." 

"Belonged  to  you?" 

11  Yes,  to  me." 

"And  by  what  tie?" 

Langford  hesitated.  He  was  furiously  wrought 
up.  He  saw  that  it  was  necessary  to  make  a  break, 
a  rupture,  between  these  two.  He  thought  that  if 
he  could  do  so,  his  own  suit  might  the  better  prosper. 
He  was  in  deadly  earnest  and  therefore  he  took  the 
risk.  How  frightful  it  was,  he  had  no  preconception. 
He  did  not  understand  that  he  was  dealing  with  a 
primitive  man.  How  should  he?  He  did  not  under 
stand  what  passions  slept  beneath  the  surface.  And 
perhaps  if  he  had  understood,  to  do  him  justice,  for 
he  was  a  fearless  man,  he  would  have  ventured  just 
the  same. 

"  She  was  my  mistress !  "  he  said  through  his 
teeth. 

"  Shame !  Shame !  "  cried  the  woman,  and  then 
she  fell  silent,  clasping  her  hands  and  waiting  for 


The  Coming  of  the  World  217 

what  might  come.     The  hour  of  her  travail  was 
upon  her. 

Langford  flashed  a  look  at  her,  and  then  his  gaze 
reverted  to  the  man.  The  expected  outbreak  did  not 
instantly  come. 

"  Mistress !  "  said  the  other.  "  I  know  not  what 
that  means,  but  'tis  a  word  of  bitterness.  Say  fur 
ther  and  more  clearly  your  intent." 

"Why,  you  fool!" 

"  He  that  calleth  his  brother  a  fool  shall  be 
damned,"  said  the  man. 

Langford  stared  at  him. 

"  Where  have  you  lived,"  he  cried,  w  that  you 
don't  know  the  meaning  of  words?" 

"  I  have  lived  nowhere  but  here,  and  I  have  known 
no  language  but  what  this  woman  has  taught  me." 

"  Yet  she  could  easily  have  taught  you  the  meaning 
of  that  word,"  the  other  responded  with  cruel,  ruth 
less  meaning. 

"  I  will  take  the  lesson  from  you." 

"  You  will  have  it  then !  " 

"  I  will." 

"  She  was  my  wife,  but  without  the  blessing  of 
God  or  the  law  of  man.  I  owned  her,  do  you  un 
derstand?  I  possessed  her,  body  and  soul." 

"  Not  soul,"  said  the  woman,  but  the  protest  was 
lost. 

'  You  lie  I "  cried  the  man,  swiftly  leaping  upon 
him. 


2i8  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

No  tiger  ever  sprang  with  such  swiftness  or  such 
ferocity.  Langford  was  prepared  for  an  attack.  He 
dealt  a  blow  at  the  oncoming  figure  with  all  the 
force  of  his  arm,  and  skill  and  training  enabled  him 
to  put  into  it  more  than  one  would  have  fancied  from 
the  slightness  of  his  figure.  He  struck  the  man  fairly 
in  the  chest.  The  blow  apparently  might  have 
staggered  an  ox;  it  had  no  effect  whatever  upon  the 
other.  In  an  instant  Langford  was  caught  as  if  in 
the  grasp  of  a  whirlwind.  He  was  lifted  from  the 
earth  and  held  high  in  the  air.  For  one  tense  mo 
ment,  unable  to  struggle,  he  hung  upon  uplifted  arms. 
He  heard  a  voice  beneath  him  cry: 

"  Woman,  shall  I  throw  him  down  and  kill  him?  " 
"  Do  him  no  hurt,"  said  the  woman,  "  for  what 
he  has  said,  as  he  sees  it,  is  true." 


CHAPTER   XVI 

CONFRONTED 

AT  these  appalling  words  the  strength  seemed  all 
at  once  to  go  out  of  the  man's  arms.  Heavily,  but 
not  with  purposeful  ungentleness,  he  slowly  sat 
Langford  down  upon  his  feet  on  the  sand. 

"  You  brute !  "  cried  the  man,  trembling  with  im 
potent  anger. 

There  was  nothing  that  he  could  do  personally. 
If  he  had  possessed  a  weapon  he  would  have  killed 
the  islander,  but  he  was  unarmed  and  helpless. 
Therefore  he  turned  toward  the  beach  and  called  to 
his  men.  They  had  seen  the  sudden  attack  and  were 
already  running  across  the  sands. 

"  No,"  said  the  woman,  "  that  word  belongs  to 
you.  You  have  told  the  truth,  and  yet  not  all." 
She  turned  to  her  companion  of  the  island.  "  Man," 
she  said,  "  you  have  loved  me.  You  must  hear  what 
I  have  to  say." 

'  You  have  said  that  it  was  true,"  he  muttered 
hoarsely.  u  And  the  man  who  has  said  it  lives. 
Lives!" 

Plis  voice  rose  to  a  cry.  He  turned  toward  Lang- 
ford  again.  But  by  this  time  the  six  blue  jackets 
who  made  up  the  boat's  crew  were  close  at  hand. 

219 


22O  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

"  Haley,"  cried  Langford  to  the  coxswain,  "  seize 
that  brute  yonder,  and  .  .  ." 

The  woman  was  still  wearing  the  knife  that  she 
habitually  carried.  She  used  it  often  and  kept  the 
blade  bright  and  of  keen  edge.  She  whipped  it 
out  on  the  instant,  her  civilization  falling  from  her 
like  a  discarded  garment  when  the  man  she  loved 
was  threatened. 

"  Let  no  one  lay  hand  upon  him,"  she  cried,  aflame 
to  defend  him.  "  I  swear  that  I  will  drive  it  into 
my  own  heart  if  he  be  touched." 

"  Give  me  the  knife,"  said  her  companion  sud 
denly. 

Before  she  could  prevent  him,  he  whipped  it  out 
of  her  hand. 

"And  now,"  he  said,  springing  toward  the  hud 
dled  group  of  sailors,  the  bright  blade  liffed,  "  which 
of  you  will  touch  me?" 

The  men  shrank  back.  There  was  something  so 
furious  in  the  aspect  of  the  man,  his  power  was  so 
evident,  and  his  temper  as  well,  that  none  wished 
to  precipitate  the  fray. 

"  I  appeal  to  you,"  said  the  woman,  turning  to 
Langford,  "  send  back  the  men.  A  moment  since 
I  saved  your  life.  At  a  word  from  me  he  would 
have  thrown  you  from  him  and  broken  your  back. 
Be  generous.  You  must.  And  this  man  shall  give 
me  a  hearing.  You  are  safe  from  him,  I  promise 
you," 


The  Coming  of  the  World  221 

What  might  have  been  the  result  of  this  appeal 
can  never  be  determined,  for  at  that  moment  a  new 
factor  entered  upon  the  scene,  a  factor  whose  pres 
ence  was  as  surprising  and  unexpected  as  it  was  de 
terminative.  From  out  to  sea,  yet  near  at  hand, 
came  a  muffled  detonation,  the  roar  of  a  heavy  gun. 
Around  one  of  the  headlands  that  rose  on  that  side 
of  the  island  there  swept  the  white  sides  of  another 
great  ship  beside  which  the  yacht,  imposing  though 
she  was,  was  a  toy.  It  was  the  woman  who  saw  it 
first. 

"Look!"  she  cried.  "A  ship  of  war.  See  the 
flag  of  the  United  States.  This  land  is  America. 
I  claim  it  by  right  of  discovery.  Lay  but  a  hand 
upon  this  man  and  I  will  have  you  hanged  for 
murder,  Langford.  With  their  glasses  they  have 
seen  this  encounter.  That  gun  was  a  warning.  A 
boat  is  putting  off.  Thank  God,  we  are  saved  from 
you !  " 

Things  had  transpired  even  as  she  said.  What 
the  cruiser  was  doing  in  those  seas,  how  happened 
she  to  be  there,  were  things  as  yet  unknown,  but 
that  she  was  there  was  apparent.  She  had  ap 
proached  the  island  from  the  other  side  and  had 
sailed  around  it.  Her  men  had  observed  the  en 
counter  on  the  shore,  which  seemed  to  be  between  na 
tives  and  persons  from  the  yacht  which  was  in  plain 
view  a  little  farther  out  to  sea,  and  the  gun  had 


222  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

been  fired  to  call  attention  to  the  advent  of  the  United 
States. 

This  put  an  entirely  new  face  on  the  v/hole  af 
fair.  Matters  were  taken  out  of  the  hands  of  the 
parties  to  the  quarrel.  The  law  had  come  to  the 
island.  The  islander  did  not,  could  not,  know  it, 
but  his  baffled  antagonist  realized  it  immediately. 
So  did  the  woman.  At  Langford's  command,  his 
men,  much  bewildered  at  the  scene  they  had  wit 
nessed,  went  back  to  their  boat.  He  himself  pres 
ently  followed  after  and  stood  upon  the  strand  await 
ing  the  approach  of  the  heavy  man-of-war  cutter 
which  had  pulled  away  from  the  big  white  cruiser's 
side. 

"  Man,"  she  said  softly,  "  this  is  what  I  had  to  tell 
you." 

He  nodded.  A  hollow  groan  burst  from  his  lips. 
"  His  mistress,"  he  muttered  brokenly. 
"  I  would  not  have  had  you  learn  in  this  way,  and 
now  that  you  have  heard  so  much,  you  must  hear 
more,"  she  went  on,  not  sparing  herself,  though  she 
might  justly  have  resented  the  word.  She  was  deal 
ing  with  more  serious  things  than  words  now,  bitter 
though  they  might  be.  "That  ship,  which  is  the 
ship  of  our  country,  stands  for  law  as  his  for  li 
cense.  I  was  more  sinned  against  than  sinning. 
When  you  have  heard  all,  then  you  shall  judge.  This 
is  the  test." 

"  Would  God  that  it  had  never  been  laid  upon 


The  Coming  of  the  World  223 

me,"  said  the  man  hoarsely.  "  Would  God  that 
the  beacon  had  not  been  lighted  on  the  hill !  " 

"Nay,"  returned  the  woman  gently,  "that's  past 
praying  for.  Decision  rests  with  you,  but  you  must 
not  pass  it  until  you  have  heard  the  whole  story. 
The  world  holds  me  stained,  polluted  it  may  be, 
as  he  said,  but  I  am  not  the  sinner  that  it  thinks  me 
or  he  portrays." 

"  You  said  it  was  true,"  doggedly  cried  the  man. 

"  Yes,  but  not  all  true." 

"And  I  had  him  in  my  hands,  and  still  he 
lives." 

"Won't  you  hear  me?  "  pleaded  the  woman. 

The  man  shook  her  off  and  turned  away.  That 
very  innocence  which  had  prevented  his  understand 
ing  at  first  the  charge,  made  it  the  more  hideous 
when  comprehension  came.  He  had  loved  this 
woman  with  a  love  that  passed  the  love  of  man,  for 
there  had  not  entered  in  his  mind  the  faintest  pos 
sibility  that  she  could  ever  be  or  ever  have  been 
other  than  what  she  seemed,  a  daughter  of  the  gods, 
in  truth,  in  sweetness,  and  in  purity.  And  this  man 
had  come  from  out  of  the  world  and  proclaimed  her 
his  mistress,  his  cast-off,  abandoned  mistress.  Once 
the  clew  was  given  he  found  more  hideous  depths 
of  infamy  in  that  word  than  would  have  appeared 
had  his  been  a  wiser  and  more  experienced  vision. 
Indeed,  so  clear  and  pure  was  the  soul  of  this  woman 
that  a  man  of  the  world  would  have  known  in- 


224  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

stantly  that  there  was  an  explanation,  which  this 
child  of  nature  could  not  see  forthcoming.  He 
wanted  to  be  away  from  her  and  alone,  and  he 
turned  as  if  to  plunge  into  the  depths  of  the  forest, 
but  with  gentle  force  she  restrained  him. 

"  If  you  are  a  man,  with  a  man's  power  and  a 
man's  soul  and  a  man's  heart,  you  cannot  fly  now. 
You  must  stay  and  face  the  problem.  The  question 
must  be  pursued  to  the  bitter  end.  My  life  and  your 
life  depend  upon  what  we  do  now,  perhaps  his  life, 
too." 

"  O  God,"  cried  the  man,  recurring  again  to  that 
bitter  thought,  "  I  had  him  in  my  hands  and  spared 
him." 

"  But  you  spared  him  for  my  sake,"  said  the 
woman,  "think  of  that." 

"  For  your  sake,"  declared  the  man  pointedly,  "  I 
should  and  would  have  killed  him." 

"Thou  shalt  not  kill!  "  said  the  woman  softly. 

"  An  eye  for  an  eye  and  a  tooth  for  a  tooth,"  re 
turned  the  man.  "  He  and  you  between  you  slew 
my  heart.  His  death  would  be  no  murder,  but  ret 
ribution." 

"  But  it  was  in  part  my  fault,"  returned  the  woman, 
bravely  making  her  confession. 

"  I  will  never  believe  it.    It  cannot  be." 

"  And  yet  it  was,  but  you  shall  have  the  whole 
wretched  story  to-day,  and  you  shall  judge.  This 
much  I  will  say,  that  though  all  that  he  said  was 


"'THOU  SHALT  NOT  KILL!'" 


The  Coming  of  the  World  22$ 

true,  yet  I  hold  myself  blameless  and  innocent.  The 
world  judges  me  harshly,  and  it  may  be  that  you  will 
find  its  judgment  just.  Yet  I  do  not  hold  myself 
as  on  trial  at  this  moment,  but  you." 

"  I  do  not  understand." 

"  There  are  many  things  that  you  do  not  under 
stand,  my  friend." 

"  I  would  that  I  had  been  left  in  ignorance." 

"  Nay,  that  is  not  a  man's  wish,  but  a  child's." 

"  Of  one  thing  am  I  certain." 

"And  what  is  that?" 

"That  I  should  have  killed  him!" 

"  Nay,"  said  the  woman  again,  "  that  is  not  a 
child's  wish,  but  a  brute's." 

"You  said  yourself,"  he  flashed  at  her,  "that 
there  were  some  things  a  woman  could  not  forgive, 
and  this  is  one  thing  that  a  man  puts  in  the  same 
class." 

The  woman  sighed.  There  occurred  to  her  at  the 
moment  no  answer  which  was  adequate  to  the  stark 
realism  of  this  fact.  The  conversation  had  reached 
an  impasse  beyond  which  it  could  not  progress  with 
out  the  full  and  complete  explanation  which  now 
there  was  neither  time  nor  opportunity  to  give,  for 
the  boat  from  the  man-of-war  was  approaching  the 
shore.  The  woman  stepped  resolutely  down  the 
strand  to  meet  it,  and  the  man,  after  a  slight  hesi 
tation,  followed  after. 

So  soon  as  the  boat's  keel  grated  on  the  bottom  in 


226  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

the  shallow  water  a  middle-aged  officer  rose  from 
the  stern  sheets  and  stepped  ashore,  followed  by  a 
younger  companion  in  the  uniform  of  a  sergeant 
of  marines.  A  little  squad  of  privates  in  the  bows 
landed  and  fell  in  line  with  martial  celerity  and  pre 
cision.  The  officer  in  charge,  who  wore  the  white 
tropic  uniform  of  a  lieutenant-commander,  now  faced 
the  people  on  the  island  who  had  instinctively  di 
vided  into  two  groups,  one  on  either  side  of  him.  To 
the  right  stood  the  man,  and  behind  him  the  woman, 
to  the  left  Langford,  back  of  him  his  crew.  It  was 
to  the  latter  that  the  officer  first  addressed  himself. 

"  Sir,"  he  began,  "  I  am  the  executive  officer  of  the 
United  States  cruiser  Cheyenne,  detached  on  special 
service.  We  raised  this  island  this  morning,  ran  it 
down,  circled  it,  saw  the  yacht  yonder.  .  .  ." 

He  paused. 

"  It  is  my  yacht,  sir,  the  Southern  Cross''  an 
swered  the  other.  "  My  name  is  Langford." 

"  Glad  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Langford.  Mine  is 
Whittaker." 

The  lieutenant-commander  touched  his  cap  as  he 
spoke.  Langford  lifted  his,  and  the  two  shook 
hands. 

:'  We  saw,"  continued  the  lieutenant-commander, 
"  what  appeared  to  be  some  sort  of  a  fracas  with 
the  natives,  and  fired  a  gun  to  attract  attention, 
and  Captain  Ashby  sent  this  boat  party  ashore 
under  my  charge  to  do  whatever  was  necessary. 


The  Coming  of  the  World  227 

Perhaps  you  can  explain  how  you  came  to  be  em 
broiled  with  the  natives." 

"  Sir,"  said  the  woman — and  the  fact  that  she  ad 
dressed  him  in  his  own  language  and  with  the  cul 
tivated  accents  of  the  well-bred  and  the  well-educated 
caused  the  officer  to  start  violently — "  the  island  is 
mine." 

Mr.  Whittaker  turned  and  looked  deliberately  at 
her,  his  surprise  only  equaled  by  his  admiration. 
The  tunic  that  she  wore  was  a  rough  garment  and 
shapeless,  but  few  vestments  were  better  calculated 
to  set  off  her  exquisite  proportions.  The  grace  and 
beauty  of  her  figure,  the  nobility  and  intelligence  of 
her  face,  took  added  luster  from  the  contrast  of  the 
utterly  simple,  natural,  and  primitive.  Whittaker's 
glance  fell  upon  a  well-nigh  perfect  woman.  The 
constraining  influences  of  civilization  had  been  so 
long  absent  that  nature  had  time  and  opportunity 
to  reassert  its  claim.  She  was  tall,  exquisitely  mod 
eled.  Her  bare  arms  might  have  supplied  those 
missing  from  the  Venus  of  Milo;  her  limbs,  which 
the  short  tunic  to  her  knee  left  exposed,  were  per 
fect  in  their  symmetry  and  strength;  her  feet  were 
such  as  those  to  which  ancient  Greece  had  bowed; 
her  hands  were  shapely,  graceful,  yet  strong;  her 
dark  eyes  looked  at  him  fearlessly;  her  dark  hair 
rose  like  a  somber,  cloudy  crown  above  her  brow. 
The  fierce  sun,  the  open  air,  the  wild  wind  had  not 
materially  altered  the  clear,  slightly  olive  pallor  of 


228  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

her  face.  The  woman  had  been  beautiful  before. 
Now  that  nature  had  had  free  sway,  she  was  nobly 
lovely.  She  had  stood  a  little  in  the  rear  of  the  man 
at  first  and  the  lieutenant-commander  had  not  par 
ticularly  observed  her.  When  she  spoke,  she  stepped 
into  the  open.  He  stared  and  stared,  amazed. 

Indeed,  the  direct  intensity  of  his  glance  added 
a  sudden  new  perception  to  the  woman's  faculties, 
and  for  the  first  time  in  years  she  realized  that  she 
was  standing  before  her  fellows  half  naked.  In 
one  swift  moment  convention  leaped  across  the  miss 
ing  years  and  caught  her  in  its  arms.  The  red 
flashed  into  her  cheek;  beneath  her  rude  vest  her 
bosom  rose  and  fell.  Her  instinct  for  the  moment 
was  to  fly.  She  wished  that  she  had  put  on  those 
treasured  garments  which  she  had  kept  for  a  scene 
like  this  in  that  cave  all  those  years.  It  was  too 
late  now.  She  summoned  her  courage  and,  realiz 
ing  that  dignity  after  all  is  not  made  of  clothes 
or  conventions,  once  more  addressed  him. 

"  Sir,"  she  said,  "  my  name  is  Katharine  Brenton. 
I  am  not,  as  you  might  well  think,  a  savage,  but  a 
castaway." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  the  officer,  a  man  of 
wide  reading  and  culture,  "  is  it  possible  that  you  are 
the  Katharine  Brenton  who  wrote  '  Fate  and  Des 
tiny'?" 

"  I  am  that  unhappy  woman." 

*  Unhappy?" 


The  Coming  of  the  World  229 

"  Yes,"  returned  the  other,  "  I     .      .      . " 

"  Madam,"  said  the  lieutenant-commander,  flush 
ing  deeply  and  bowing  in  his  turn.  He  had  taken 
off  his  cap  at  her  first  word.  "  I  beg  your  pardon, 
I  have  heard  something  of  your  story." 

He  was  very  much  embarrassed.  It  was  Langford 
who  took  up  the  tale. 

"  Since  you  know  so  much,  Mr.  Whittaker,  you 
may  as  well  hear  the  rest.  Indeed,  I  am  anxious  that 
the  world  shall  hear  it.  Miss  Brenton  and  I,  we 
.  .  .  er  .  .  .  did  not  believe  in  marriage, 
and  we  went  away  .  .  .  together." 

Every  word  was  agony  to  Langford,  who  was  a 
proud  man;  it  was  worse  agony  to  Katharine  Bren 
ton,  who  was  a  proud  woman;  and  it  was  worst 
agony  of  all  to  the  man  of  the  island.  But  Lang- 
ford  persisted.  He  did  not  care  how  he  hurt  him 
self.  Indeed,  he  rather  luxuriated  in  the  conscious 
ness  of  his  own  pain.  It  was  part  of  his  expiation. 
He  realized  that  he  would  have  to  hurt  Katharine, 
but  perhaps  the  very  keenness  of  her  pain  would 
make  her  realize  her  position,  and  he  wanted  to 
win  her,  now  that  he  had  found  her  and  seen  her, 
more  than  ever.  Nor  was  his  passion  a  base  one. 
Again  he  was  ashamed  of  what  he  had  already  said, 
so  he  spoke  the  more  frankly.  He  gave  no  thought 
at  all  to  the  other  man,  but  if  he  had,  he  would  have 
been  glad  to  hurt  him  until  he  killed  him. 

"We  went  away  on  my  yacht  yonder  three  years 


230  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

ago.  I  ...  in  short  ...  I  behaved  like  a 
brute  on  it,  I  will  admit." 

"  I  discovered  that  he  was  a  married  man,"  said 
the  Woman  swiftly  at  this  juncture.  She,  too,  would 
be  frank.  This  grave  and  middle-aged  officer  should 
hear  all.  "  He  had  professed  belief  in  those  views 
which,  if  you  have  read  '  Fate  and  Destiny,'  you 
realized  that  I  entertained." 

The  officer  bowed. 

"And  have  you  abandoned  them  now?  "  he  asked. 

"Absolutely,"  was  the  firm  answer.  "I  am  a 
Christian  woman,  thank  God!" 

"Thank  God  say  I,  too,"  continued  Langford. 
"  Yet  I  was  not  altogether  a  sham  or  a  lie.  It  is 
true  that  I  was  a  married  man." 

The  lieutenant-commander  flashed  a  contemptu 
ous  look  at  him,  at  which  Langford  winced,  but  he 
went  on.  He  was  determined  to  make  an  absolutely 
clean  breast  of  the  whole  affair. 

"  It  is  true  I  was  a  married  man,  but  I  was  under 
the  spell  of  Miss  Brenton's  eloquence  and  of  her 
beauty." 

"  I  can  well  understand  that,"  said  the  officer 
gravely  as  a  matter  of  course. 

"  I  thought  that  marriage  meant  nothing  and  that 
the  old  tie  might  be  disregarded.  I  hated  the  woman 
who  bore  my  name,  and  so,  as  Miss  Brenton's  dis 
ciple,  as  her  devotee,  for  I  loved  her,  I  will  admit," 
he  smiled  drearily,  "  more  than  her  philosophy,  I 


The  Coming  of  the  World  231 

proposed  that  we  should  trample  upon  the  conven 
tions  she  had  taught  me  to  believe  she  despised,  and 
go  away  together." 

"  But  you  were  not  free,"  said  the  woman,  "  to 
enter  upon  such  an  undertaking." 

"No,  by  heaven!  "  cried  Whittaker. 

Now  this  conversation  had  been  carried  on  with 
three  auditors,  or  groups  of  auditors,  besides  those 
participating,  Langford's  yachtsmen,  the  marines 
and  seamen  from  the  Cheyenne,  for  the  boat  was 
against  the  shore,  and  the  man  of  the  island.  Whit- 
taker  first  awoke  to  the  situation. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  "  but  would  it  not 
be  better  to  continue  this  conversation  privately?" 

"  I  think  so,"  returned  Langford. 

"  No,"  said  the  man  of  the  island,  addressing  the 
lieutenant-commander  for  the  first  time;  "you  and 
these  men  are  the  world.  I  want  the  story  told 
where  all  the  world  may  hear." 

Whittaker's  surprise  at  this  remark  was  scarcely 
less  than  he  had  experienced  when  the  woman  ad 
dressed  him.  Who  was  this  splendid,  godlike  form 
of  man  standing  glooming  by  the  woman's  side,  a 
silent,  eager  listener  to  all  that  transpired?  What 
had  he  to  do  with  the  question  that  he  assumed  this 
tone  and  manner  of  authority?  The  officer  turned 
toward  the  woman. 

"  I  think,"  said  he  quietly,  "  that  the  lady  should 
be  allowed  to  decide." 


232  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

"  My  wish  is  my  friend's  wish,"  said  the  woman, 
laying  her  hand  softly  upon  the  man's  arm. 

Whittaker  observed  that  the  man  shook  it  off 
nervously,  but  the  point  being  settled,  there  was  no 
further  appeal. 

"  Pray  proceed  with  your  story,  Mr.  Langford," 
he  continued. 

"No,  let  me  take  up  the  tale,"  cried  the  woman. 
"  Believing  that  I  was  right,  believing  that  the  ed 
ucation  and  training  which  had  made  me  what  I 
was  were  sound,  believing  that  this  man  was  as  free 
as  I  to  choose  his  course  and  order  his  lift,  know 
ing  nothing  of  his  wife,  I  yielded  to  his  pleadings. 
I  thought  it  was  a  noble  and  splendid  opportunity 
vouchsafed  me,  and,  in  a  measure,  vouchsafed  him 
to  show  the  world  that  we  did  really  believe  what  we 
said.  Had  I  believed  in  God  then,  I  should  have 
said  his  meeting  with  me,  his  conversion  to  my  the 
ories,  his  passion  for  me,  his  willingness  to  abide  by 
my  decision,  were  providential.  I  was  glad  to  con 
secrate  my  life  to  the  truth,  with  his  aid  to  take  the 
final  step  in  attestation  of  my  belief,  to  convince  the 
world  that  one  woman  at  least  had  the  courage  of 
her  convictions.  It  was  a  mistake,  a  frightful  mis 
take,  an  irreparable  mistake,  for  which  I  suppose 
that  I  must  suffer  to  the  end  of  time." 

"  No,"  cried  Langford,  "  I  am  here  to  repair  the 
blunder." 

"  There  is  no  power  on  earth,"  said  the  woman 


The  Coming  of  the  World  233 

passionately,  "that  can  put  me  where  I  was;  that 
can  give  me  back  that  I  have  lost." 

"  Kate,  Kate,"  cried  Langford,  "  you  don't  under 
stand!" 

"  I  understand  too  well.  Why  continue  the  sorry 
story?  Mr.  Whittaker,  and  you  that  are  men  be 
yond,  that  have  wives  and  children  and  sweethearts, 
that  have  been  taught  to  love  God,  to  believe  in 
Him,  and  to  observe  His  laws,  that  have  submitted 
yourselves  gladly  to  the  conventions  of  society — or 
if  any  there  be  among  you  who  have  outraged 
these  and  gone  against  them,  taken  the  law  into  your 
own  hands — you  will  understand  sooner  or  later 
what  came  to  me.  I  discovered  that  there  was  noth 
ing  high  or  holy  in  this  man's  regard  for  me;  that 
he  had  persuaded  himself  that  he  believed  what  I 
taught  simply  to  get  possession  of  me.  I  awoke  to 
a  dreadful  realization,  alone  with  him  on  that  yacht. 
He  was  not  kind  to  me.  He  acted  according  to  his 
lights." 

"  I  will  confess  it,"  said  Langford.  "  I  was  a 
brute  to  her.  I  drank;  I  acknowledged  that  I  had 
a  wife;  I  said  she  was  in  my  power;  I  called  her  vile 
names." 

There  was  a  low  growl,  a  muttered  roar  from  the 
men  behind  Whittaker.  Even  Langford's  own 
men,  in  his  own  pay,  shrank  back  from  him.  The 
man  was  frightfully  pale,  yet  he  went  on  resolutely, 
Whittaker  stilling  the  tumult  with  upraised  hand. 


234  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

"No  one,"  he  cried,  "can  think  more  hatefully 
of  a  human  being  than  I  think  of  myself  now.  I 
have  not  learned  her  philosophy;  I  have  learned  an 
other  and  a  better.  In  some  sort  of  a  way  at  least 
I  know  that  I  can  never  be  happy  until  I  have  made 
her  happy.  I  know  that  I  love  her  now  as  I  should 
have  loved  her  then ;  that  I  have  hunted  these  seas 
for  her  without  ceasing  since  she  left  me  in  a  drunken 
stupor  one  night." 

"Left  you  how?"  asked  the  lieutenant-com 
mander. 

"  I  am  not  quite  clear.  I  must  have  descended 
very  low,"  said  Langford.  "  I  remember  some  sort 
of  a  scene  at  supper,  and  when  I  woke  in  the  morn 
ing,  or  I  didn't  wake  for  six  months — they  found 
me  in  the  morning  with  a  fractured  skull  on  the  cabin 
floor  and  they  took  me  back  to  the  United  States. 
It  was  a  year  or  more  before  I  could  begin  the  search 
for  her." 

"  He  said  things  to  me  that  night,"  said  the 
woman,  "  that  no  woman  could  endure  or  forgive. 
He  came  toward  me.  I  threw  him  from  me  with 
such  force  and  violence — I  am  a  strong  woman — 
that  he  lay  senseless  in  the  cabin.  The  motor  launch 
had  been  got  overboard  for  a  trial  and  was  trailing 
astern.  I  got  in  it,  drifted  away,  started  the  motor 
and  ran  it  until  the  gasoline  was  gone.  I  brought 
food  and  water  from  the  cabin  table.  I  lived  a  week 
alone  in  the  boat,  bearing  southward  all  the  time 


The  Coming  of  the  World  235 

by  means  of  a  sail  which  I  improvised  from  a  boat 
cloak.  One  night  there  was  a  storm.  At  the  height 
of  it  I  was  thrown  upon  this  island.  The  .  .  ." 

"  I  hoped,"  said  Langford,  taking  up  the  tale, 
"  that  that  might  be  the  case,  and  with  that  end  in 
view  I  have  searched  the  Pacific.  I  have  landed 
upon  many  uncharted  islands.  I  have  explored 
others  little,  if  ever,  visited,  praying  to  God  that  she 
might  be  alive,  that  I  might  find  her  and  make  rep 
aration,  and  now  I  have  found  her  at  last  when  I 
had  given  up  all  hope,  abandoned  all  expectation. 
And  I  stand  here  confessing  my  fault  before  men, 
ready  to  do  anything  and  everything  that  a  man 
can  do  to  make  amends  for  the  past." 

"  But  you  have  a  wife,"  said  Whittaker  coldly. 

"  No,  she's  dead  these  two  years,  thank  God.  I 
never  loved  her.  It  was  a  boyish  infatuation  with 
a  designing  adventuress  who  wanted  a  hold  upon  my 
father's  money.  I  am  free,  free  to  make  her  my 
wife.  I  ask  her,  I  beg  her,  to  take  me,  to  give  me 
a  chance  to  show  that  I  feel  what  I  have  done,  to 
devote  my  life  to  expiation." 

He  stopped,  wiped  the  moisture  from  his  fore 
head,  stood  for  a  moment  in  the  silence  that  followed 
his  words,  his  face  downcast.  Then  he  lifted  it, 
haggard,  worn,  sad,  the  humiliation  of  the  last  few 
moments  having  entered  deeply  into  his  soul. 

"  Kate,"  he  said  softly,  "your  answer!  " 


CHAPTER   XVII 

THE   WOMAN'S   PLEA 

"  Miss  BRENTON,"  said  Whittaker  with  the  deepest 
gravity  he  could  infuse  in  voice  and  manner,  "you 
have  been  a  most  unfortunate,  a  most  unhappy 
woman.  Allow  me  to  assure  you  of  my  sincerest 
commiseration,  my  deepest  respect,  my  most  pro 
found  admiration.  You  have  suffered,  but  inno 
cently.  If  I  may  speak  the  voice  of  society,  if  I  may 
stand  for  the  world,  as  your  companion  has  said,  I 
can  only  express  my  reverence  for  you  and  my  hom 
age  to  you  in  this  way." 

He  stepped  nearer  to  her,  he  seized  her  hand.  He 
was  an  old-fashioned,  humble-minded,  quixotic  sort 
of  a  sailor,  if  you  will,  for  before  anybody  realized 
what  he  was  about,  he  bent  his  head  low  over  it  and 
kissed  it.  And  the  sailors  behind  him  and  the 
marines  in  rank  broke  into  a  hearty  cheer. 

"There,  madam,"  said  Whittaker,  "you  have  the 
approbation  of  society  for  my  act.  As  for  you,  sir," 
he  turned  toward  Langford,  "  I  should  be  untrue  to 
my  manhood  if  I  did  not  say  what  you  yourself  have 
said;  that  you  acted  not  only  like  a  brute  and  a 
coward,  but,  sir,  when  I  look  at  the  lady,  I  am  con 
strained  to  add  like  a  fool." 

236 


The  Coming  of  the  World  237 

Langford  started  forward,  but  the  lieutenant-com 
mander  checked  him. 

"  Having  said  all  that,  I  must  admit  that  you  have 
conducted  yourself  since  that  time  as  a  man  of  honor 
and  as  a  gentleman.  I  have  no  doubt  but  that  your 
offer  will  be  accepted;  that  the  world  will  forgive 
you  as  it  will  admire  and  respect  your  wife." 

"  No !  "  cried  the  man  of  the  island  suddenly. 

He  had  kept  silence,  resolved  to  hear  it  all  out 
without  interruption.  He  had  suffered,  as  the  miser 
able  story  had  been  unfolded,  to  such  an  extent  that 
all  that  he  had  gone  through  before  seemed  like 
child's  play.  He  had  heard  Langford's  noble  con 
fession,  his  generous  offer  to  repair  his  wrong,  but 
without  the  appreciation  of  it  which  the  circum-* 
stances  and  its  intrinsic  quality  might  have  evoked. 
He  had  heard  the  woman's  defense,  her  splendid 
justification  of  her  course,  the  bitter  repentance  that 
had  followed  it,  but  without  that  appreciation  of  what 
justification  there  was  for  her  and  the  value  of  her 
remorse  which  the  account  should  have  brought  to 
him.  He  had  observed  Whittaker's  prompt  and 
touching  expression  of  confidence  and  reverence,  but 
without  understanding  its  force  and  power.  Indeed, 
he  had  instinctive  shrewdness  enough  to  realize  that 
even  though  the  sailors,  touched  by  the  act  of  gal 
lantry  and  moved  with  pity  for  the  young  woman 
who  stood  there  lovely  in  her  misery,  had  cheered, 
yet  the  world  would  be  very  slow  to  the  same  ex- 


238  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

pression.  He  saw  that  the  woman  was  face  to  face 
with  a  crisis ;  that  she  would  either  have  to  accept  or 
decline  Langford's  offer  to  marry  her  at  once. 

His  heart  was  filled  with  bitter  rage.  He  knew 
that  he  loved  the  woman;  that  he  never  would  love 
any  person  but  the  woman,  but  nevertheless  the  re 
sentment  against  fate,  which  had  placed  him  in  so 
awful  a  position,  of  whose  malign  purposes  he  had 
been  the  blind,  ignorant  victim,  was  so  great  that 
for  the  time  being  his  love  was  in  abeyance.  He 
pitied  himself,  he  loathed  Langford,  he  was  con 
temptuously  indifferent  to  the  world,  and  for  the 
moment  he  almost  hated  the  woman.  The  subcon- 
sciousness  that  possessed  him  that  these  feelings  were 
as  ungrateful  as  they  were  unwarranted  increased 
his  wretchedness  and  misery. 

He  had  the  passions  of  the  savage  and  the  civil 
ized  man  at  the  same  moment.  He  worshiped  bar, 
but  he  could  have  killed  her  then  and  there.  In  his 
blind  fury  he  could  have  killed  them  all.  He  could 
have  wished  that  the  earth  might  open  and  swallow 
him  and  all  who  stood  upon  it.  Like  Samson,  he 
could  have  pulled  the  pillars  down  upon  the  com 
pany,  though  he  brought  the  rocks  of  doom  upon  his 
own  head,  and,  like  Samson,  he  was  blind,  blind  with 
passion,  blind  with  unreasoning  resentment,  caught 
in  a  net,  striking  out  violently  on  every  side,  cut 
ting  a  strand  here  and  there,  but  feeling  gener- 


The  Coming  of  the  World  239 

ally  like  one  who  beats  the  air  and  knows  not 
upon  what  he  strikes.  He  could  keep  silence  no 
longer. 

"  No,"  he  cried,  "  before  any  answer  is  made,  let 
me  speak! " 

"  Your  pardon,"  said  Whittaker,  "  may  I  ask 
who  and  what  you  are?  " 

He  spoke  with  a  tone  of  authority  that  could  not 
be  gainsaid.  Indeed,  he  largely  represented  law 
and  order  on  this  strange  island.  The  power  of 
the  United  States  was  back  of  him;  over  his  head 
particularly  flew  the  flag.  In  a  certain  sense  this 
was  taking  the  shape  of  a  judicial  inquiry  and  it  be 
hooved  him  to  be  accurately  informed  ere  he  pre 
sumed  to  pass  judgment,  to  express  a  comment,  or 
to  decide  upon  a  course  of  action. 

"  Sir,"  returned  the  man,  "  as  to  who  I  am  and 
what  I  am,  I  do  not  know,  nor  does  it  greatly 
matter." 

''  Your  pardon  again,"  returned  the  lieutenant- 
commander  coolly,  "  but  it  matters  very  much.  Un 
less  you  have  some  right  to  interfere,  I  do  not  con 
cede  that  any  suggestion  from  you  in  this  crisis, 
which  seems  to  concern  these  two  people,  this  lady 
and  this  gentleman,  is  at  all  in  order." 

"  But  it  does  concern  me,"  returned  the  man,  im 
patient  of  this  checking,  "  for  I  love  this  woman 
myself,  and  she  has  done  me  the  honor  to  say  that 


240  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

she  loved  me.  I  had  intended  to  make  her  my  wife 
should  Providence  ever  bring  us  to  civilization 
again." 

"  Had  intended !  "  exclaimed  the  woman  under  her 
breath,  but  no  one  noticed  her  words,  for  the  lieu 
tenant-commander  spoke  again. 

"That  being  the  case,  some  information  as  to 
who  you  are  and  how  you  came  here  is  the  more 
evidently  in  order." 

"  I  can  answer  that,"  said  the  woman.  "  When  I 
landed  on  this  island,  I  found  this  man  here.  He 
had  been  here  a  long  time.  I  believe  he  had  been 
cast  away  here  as  a  child  and  had  grown  up  alone. 
He  had  no  speech  or  language.  He  had  no  memory 
of  the  past.  His  mind  was  a  blank.  I  was  glad  to 
find  him  here.  He  gave  me  occupation,  companion 
ship.  I  had  been  well  educated.  I  determined  to 
teach  him.  I  knew  that  his  ignorance  was  the  result 
of  his  environment.  I  believed  him  to  be  naturally 
acute.  I  found  my  beliefs  warranted.  I  taught  him 
all  that  I  could  of  life  and  letters  from  memory. 
For  three  years  my  sole  and  only  occupation  has 
been  to  teach  him  what  I  knew.  No  preceptor  ever 
had  apter  or  more  docile  pupil." 

"  No  learner  ever  sat  at  the  feet  of  such  a  teacher," 
cried  the  man,  touched  by  the  recollection.  "  Think, 
men,  all  that  I  knew  was  a  childish  babble  of  prayer 
which  had  remained  in  my  memory.  I  was  ignorant 
of  everything,  even  that  I  myself  existed;  that  there 


The  Coming  of  the  World  241 

was  any  difference  between  me  and  the  palm  tree  or 
yonder  bird;  that  man  was  made  in  the  image  of  his 
God ;  that  there  was  such  a  thing  as  a  woman  upon 
earth.  I  had  no  ideas  of  honor,  or  honesty,  or  purity, 
or  sweetness,  or  truth,  or  life,  or  God,  until  she 
taught  me.  I  believed  in  her  as  I  believed  in  God, 
and  I  loved  her  as  I  love  sunlight  and  fresh  air  and 
the  sweet  wind.  I  loved  her,  as  I  learned  to  love, 
under  her  teaching,  goodness  and  truth  and  every 
virtue.  And  to  think,  to  think,  to  think  " — he  threw 
up  his  hand  in  a  wild  gesture — "  that  it  has  come  to 
this." 

"  And  he  taught  me  something,  Mr.  Whittaker," 
said  the  woman.  "  He  gave  me  back  my  faith  in 
manhood,  which  you " — she  swept  Langford  in  a 
bitter  glance — "  had  destroyed.  He  gave  me  back, 
I  think,  my  faith  in  God.  He  taught  me  many 
things.  And  when  two  days  ago  an  earthquake  bur 
ied  me  within  the  cave  I  call  my  home  and  he  tore 
the  rocks  asunder  and  freed  me  and  caught  me  in 
his  arms,  I  knew  that  he  had  taught  me  what  love 
was,  and  as  he  has  confessed  before  you  all  that  he 
loved  me,  that  he  did  love  me,  I  will  confess  the 
same,  and  say  that  I  at  least  have  not  changed  in 
this  hour." 

"  Kate,  Kate ! "  cried  Langford,  "  for  God's  sake, 
think  what  you  say  and  do !  " 

"  Sir,"  said  Whittaker,  turning  to  the  man  of  the 
island,  "  you  are  a  very  fortunate  man." 


242  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

"  Of  all  on  earth,"  was  the  bitter  answer,  "  I  can 
not  think  there  are  any  more  miserable  than  I." 

"  Did  you  learn  nothing  of  his  past,  Miss  Bren- 
ton?"  asked  Whittaker  uncomfortably,  unable  to 
answer  this  strange  yet  natural  assertion.  "  Could 
the  man  remember  nothing?" 

"  I  learned  a  great  deal,"  returned  the  woman. 
"  In  the  cave  which  he  had  made  his  home  and 
which  he  has  since  yielded  up  to  me  .  .  ." 

"  Where  is  this  cave?  " 

"  On  the  other  side  of  the  island.  You  shall  see 
it  presently.  I  found  a  Bible.  There  was  a  date 
in  it  some  thirty  years  back,  and  a  name  in  it." 

"  What  was  the  name?  " 

"John  Revell  Charnock." 

"  Of  Virginia  ?  "  asked  Whittaker  eagerly. 

"  I  think  so,  although  there  was  nothing  but  the 
name  and  the  date  in  the  Bible." 

"  I  know  the  Charnocks  in  Virginia.  They  came 
from  Nansemond  County." 

"  It  is  a  further  confirmation,"  said  the  woman. 
"With  the  Bible  there  was  a  little  silver  box  con 
taining  a  flint  and  steel  by  means  of  which  " — she 
turned  to  Langford — "  we  lighted  that  beacon  which 
brought  you  here  this  morning." 

"  It  was  my  own  eye  caught  the  signal,"  answered 
Langford. 

"  Would  God  I  had  died  ere  I  gave  it  up  to  her !  " 
interposed  the  man. 


The  Coming  of  the  World  243 

"  I  insisted  upon  it.  So  soon  as  I  realized  this 
man  loved  me,  I  told  him  I  had  a  story  to  tell.  I 
knew  it  would  bring  sadness  to  his  heart.  I  wanted 
him  to  hear  the  voice  of  the  world  in  comment  upon 
my  relation,  and  I  knew  he  would  find  it  on  yonder 
ship." 

"  I  was  happy,"  said  the  man,  "  to  go  on  as  we 
were.  I  should  not  have  lighted  that  fire." 

"  Pray  continue  with  your  story,  Miss  Brenton," 
said  the  lieutenant-commander.  "  I  am  deeply  inter 
ested  in  it.  There  is  a  great  Charnock  estate  in 
Virginia  which  has  been  held  in  trust  for  twenty-five 
years  or  more  by  the  last  survivor  of  the  ancient 
family.  And  I  remember  some  romantic  story  con 
nected  with  it,  too." 

"  The  silver  box  that  enclosed  the  flint  and  steel," 
continued  the  woman,  "  was  marked  '  J.  R.  C.'  Ex 
ploring  the  island  I  came  upon  the  remains  of  a  boat 
buried  in  the  sand.  It  lies  off  yonder  and  any  of  you 
may  examine  it.  Near  the  boat  in  yonder  coppice 
there  were  two  skeletons,  one  of  a  woman  and  the 
other  of  a  dog.  I  excavated  the  boat,  found  that 
it  had  belonged  to  the  ship  Nansemond  of  Virginia. 
I  have  the  stern-piece  with  the  name  painted  on  it  in 
my  cave.  I  put  the  skeletons  of  the  dog  and  the 
woman  in  the  boat  and  filled  it  up  again  with  sand. 
There  they  lie  waiting  Christian  burial.  The  place 
where  they  had  died,  the  woman  and  her  dog,  I  care 
fully  inspected.  Everything  but  metal,  and  most 


244  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

of  that,  had  rusted  away,  but  I  found  two  rings." 
She  stretched  forth  her  hand.  "  They  are  here." 
She  stripped  them  off.  "  One  of  them  is  a  wedding 
ring.  You  see  it  is  marked."  She  read  the  mark 
ings  off,  "*J.  R.  C.  to  M.  P.  T.,  September  10, 
1869,  II  Cor.  xii-15-'  The  verse  of  Scripture  to 
which  reference  is  made  is,  '  /  will  very  gladly  spend 
*nd  be  spent  for  you,  though  the  more  abundantly 
I  love  you,  the  less  I  be  loved.'  There  was  a  piece 
of  silver  also,  which  had  evidently  been  part  a  dog 
collar.  It,  too,  was  marked:  'John  Revell  Char- 
nock — His  Dog,  July  22,  1865.'  And  that  is  all." 

"  Do  you  remember  nothing  of  your  early  life, 
nothing  whatever,  sir?"  asked  Whittaker,  turning 
to  the  man. 

"  I  have  a  dim  recollection  of  some  sort  of  a  sea 
happening,  of  a  long  voyage  with  a  woman  and  some 
kind  of  an  animal  in  an  open  boat,  of  horrible  suf 
ferings,  of  a  few  words  of  prayer;  that  is  all." 

"  I  think  that  this  man,  then  a  child,"  resumed  the 
woman,  "  and  his  mother  must  in  some  way  have 
been  involved  in  a  shipwreck,  and  that  she  and  her 
son  and  a  dog  must  have  been  cast  away  on  this 
island;  that  the  woman  died  and  the  child  survived. 
There  is  nothing  here  that  would  in  any  way  harm 
him,  and  his  life  and  growth  under  such  circumstances 
and  conditions  are  quite  possible.  He  had  probably 
seen  his  mother  read  that  Bible.  He  carried  it  with 
him,  put  it  in  that  cave  and  forgot  it  with  the  flint 


The  Coming  of  the  World  245 

and  steel  in  the  silver  box  of  which  he  would  have  no 
knowledge  and  which  he  could  not  use.  The  dog 
probably  lived  some  time  and  when  he  died  crawled 
back  to  where  his  mistress  lay  and  gave  up  his  life 
at  her  feet.  And  therefore  I  believe  this  man's 
name  to  be  John  Revell  Charnock;  that  he  is  an 
American  and  that  he  came  from  Virginia.  I  know 
him  to  be  a  Christian  and  a  gentleman.  In  all  the 
days  that  we  have  been  together  on  this  island,  he 
has  done  me  no  wrong.  He  has  been  gentleness, 
kindness,  docility  itself,  and  despite  ourselves  we 
have  learned  to  love  each  other.  Until  yesterday  we 
did  not  know  it.  Now  it  is  for  him  to  say  what  we 
shall  do." 

"  Kate,  Kate,"  cried  Langford,  "  you  cannot  let 
this  untutored  savage  .  .  ." 

"  Not  that,"  said  the  woman,  "  for  I  have  taught 
him  all  I  know  and  all  I  believe." 

"  You  cannot  let  him  decide  this  question,"  con 
tinued  the  man,  passing  over  her  interruptions. 

'Yes,"  said  the  woman,  "he  must  decide,  but 
whatever  he  decides,  whatever  the  relationship  be 
tween  this  man  and  this  woman  is  to  be,  I  can  never 
be  anything  on  earth  to  you." 

"Don't  say  that,"  said  Whittaker.  "Think,  my 
dear  lady,  what  you  do,  what  this  man  offers  you, 
the  position  in  which — God  forgive  me !  — you 
stand." 

"  Sir,"  said  the  woman,  addressing  the  lieutenant- 


246  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

commander,  "  this  man  wronged  me  grievously,  ter 
ribly.  He  deceived  me.  He  broke  my  heart.  He 
killed  ambition,  aspiration,  and  respect  for  my  own 
kind  within  my  soul.  I  know  him  through  and 
through.  The  fact  that  he  failed  quickened  his  pas 
sion;  the  fact  that  men  say  I  am  beautiful  made 
him  the  more  eager;  the  fact  that  he  was  away  and 
that  he  could  not  lay  his  hands  upon  me  made  him 
the  more  insistent;  the  fact  that  I  had  flaunted  him 
and  said  him  nay  and  struck  him  down  made  him 
the  more  determined." 

"  Kate,  Kate,  you  wrong  me.  Before  God  you 
wrong  me  !  "  interrupted  Langford. 

"And  indeed,  Madam,  I  believe  you  do,"  com 
mented  Whittaker. 

"  Let  her  speak  on,"  said  the  man  of  the  island. 

"  It  may  be  that  you  are  right,"  continued  the 
woman.  "  It  may  be  that  he  is  higher,  nobler, 
truer  than  I  have  fancied.  I  should  be  glad  to  be 
able  to  think  so.  I  am  willing  to  take  your  view  of 
it,  his  assertion  of  it,  but  I  do  not  love  hm.  Should 
I  marry  him,  I  would  bring  to  him  a  heart,  a  soul, 
a  body  that  turn  to  someone  else.  He  could  never 
be  anything  to  me.  As  I  am  a  Christian  woman, 
a  lover  of  my  God  and  a  follower  of  His  Son,  I 
cannot  see  but  that  I  would  be  adding  one  wrong 
to  another  to  come  to  this  man  in  compliance  with 
any  suggestion  of  the  world,  following  any  dictate 
of  society,  subservient  to  any  convention.  I  cannot 


The  Coming  of  the  World  247 

see  but  that  I  would  be  doing  as  great  a  wrong  in 
obeying  as  I  did  before  in  flaunting  all  of  these 
forces.  I  have  learned  what  love  is  and  what  mar 
riage  should  be.  I  will  not  give  my  hand  and  yield 
my  person  where  I  cannot  yield  my  heart.  And  there 
is  no  expiation  or  reparation  that  require  it  of  me,  no 
voice  that  can  coerce  me  into  it.  I  will  not  marry 
you,  Valentine  Langford.  I  will  accept  your  expres 
sion  as  evidenced  by  your  words,  by  your  presence 
here,  as  testimony  to  your  regret.  Indeed,  I  realize 
that  your  confession  was  itself  a  great  humiliation 
to  a  man  like  you.  And  perhaps  I  have  spoken 
harshly  of  it.  But  the  bare  fact  remains,  I  do  not 
love  you,  I  could  not  love  you,  I  don't  even  want 
to  love  you.  My  heart,  my  soul,  goes  to  this  man,"' 
she  turned  to  her  companion  of  the  island,  "  whom 
up  to  to-day  I  have  made  and  fashioned  and  taught 
and  trained  until  these  hours  when  he  has  broken 
away  from  me.  I  love  this  man  who  stands  silent, 
who  thinks  of  me  as  a  thing  spotted,  polluted, 
damned.  Him  I  love;  though  he  slay  me,  yet  will 
I  love  him.  Him  I  trust;  though  he  disbelieve  me, 
yet  will  I  love  him.  Him  I  serve;  though  he 
cast  me  off,  yet  will  I  love  him.  And  with  this  in 
my  heart  in  which  I  glory  and  which  I  confess  as 
openly  and  with  as  little  hesitation  as  you  confessed 
your  shame,  I  give  you  my  final,  absolute,  utterly  ir 
revocable  decision.  I  will  not  marry  you,  I  will  not 
go  back  with  you.  No,  not  for  anything  that  you 


248  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

can  proffer,  not  for  any  reason  that  you  can  urge, 
will  I  come  to  you  when  in  my  soul  I  belong  to  an 
other.  There  may  be  no  end  to  this  but  my  despair. 
This  man  may  cast  me  off.  This  man  may  trample 
me  under  foot.  The  spots  upon  my  soul  may  loom 
large  in  his  view  and  hide  what  else  is  there.  I 
know  that  I  have  been  forgiven  by  God.  I  may  not 
be  forgiven  by  men,  but  I  tell  you  here  and  now, 
again  and  again,  that  I  will  not  be  your  wife.  I 
will  be  his  wife  or  no  man's  wife." 

Langford  turned  away  and  hid  his  face  in  his 
hands.  Whittaker  stepped  forward  and  laid  his  hand 
upon  the  shoulder  of  the  man  of  the  island.  He 
shook  him  for  a  moment. 

"  You  stand  immobile,"  he  cried  sharply,  "  after 
such  a  confession  as  that,  after  such  an  appeal? 
What  have  you  to  say,  man  ?  You  ought  to  get  down 
on  your  knees  and  thank  God  for  the  love  of  such 
a  woman." 

"  Aye,  aye,"  burst  out  the  deep-toned  voice  of  the 
old  coxswain  of  the  cutter.  "  So  say  all  of  us." 

"  God  help  me,"  cried  the  man,  lifting  his  hand 
•and  releasing  his  shoulder  from  the  grasp  of  the 
officer,  "  I  did  love  this  woman.  Think  how  it  was, 
think  how  I  believed  in  her.  No  Christian  ever  be 
lieved  in  his  God  as  I  believed  in  her.  She  told  me 
what  purity  was,  what  innocence  was,  what  sweetness 
was,  what  light  was,  what  truth  was,  and  I  looked  at 
her  and  saw  them." 


The  Coming  of  the  World  249 

"  And  you  can  look  at  her  and  see  them  now," 
cried  the  officer. 

"  No,"  said  the  man,  "  I  can  never  look  at  her 
and  see  her  the  same." 

"  Oh,  Man,  Man !  "  cried  the  woman. 

The  test  was  upon  him.  He  was  failing.  Her 
sorrow,  her  grief,  were  more  for  him  than  for  her 
self. 

"  Don't  mistake  me,"  said  the  man,  "  I  can't  help 
loving  you  whatever  you  are.  If  you  had  been  as 
guilty  as  when  he  began  to  speak,  and  when  you 
corroborated  him  I  fancied  that  you  were.  I  should 
have  loved  you  just  the  same  and  I  should  have  mar 
ried  you,  and  I  shall  marry  you.  This  .  .  .  this 
awful  thing  has  come  between  us,  but  we  will  try 
in  some  way  to  live  it  down,  to  forget  it,  to  go  on 
as  we  were." 

He  stepped  toward  the  woman. 

She  drew  herself  up  to  her  full  height  and  looked 
him  unflinchingly  in  the  face. 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  we  are  not  going  on  as  we 
thought.  We  will  not  marry  and  live  together.  We 
will  not  bury  this  wretched  happening  in  the  past  in 
any  oblivion.  I  will  marry  no  man,  although  he 
may  have  my  whole  heart,  who  is  not  proud  and 
glad  to  take  me,  who  does  not  realize  that  I  am  as 
pure  and  as  innocent  of  wrong  and  shame  as  he 
would  fain  think  his  mother,  as  he  would  absolutely 
know  his  wife  must  be.  I  told  you  that  your  man- 


250  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

hood  must  be  put  to  the  test.  I  told  you  that  your 
love  must  be  tried  by  fire.  What  I  loved  in  you  was 
the  assurance  that  you  would  survive  the  test,  that 
you  would  triumph  in  the  trial.  It  is  not  I  that  have 
been  before  the  Great  Judge  this  morning,  but  you, 
and  you  have  failed." 

"  Kate,"  said  Langford,  "  he  casts  you  off,  take 
me.  I  swear  to  you  that  were  I  in  his  place,  I  would 
not  have  hesitated  a  moment." 

"  I  respect  you  more  than  ever,"  said  the  woman, 
"  but  I  don't  love  you  and  I  cannot,  I  will  not  take 
you!" 

"  Charnock,"  said  Whittaker,  "  if  that's  your 
name,  permit  me  to  say  here,  saving  the  lady's  pres 
ence,  that  you  are  behaving  like  a  damned  fool." 

The  man  looked  at  him  dumbly,  uncomprehend- 
ingly,  and  made  no  reply.  It  was  the  woman  who 
spoke,  coldly,  impartially.  She  had  seemingly  dis 
missed  the  whole  affair,  though  at  what  a  cost  to 
herself  no  one  could  know. 

"  Sir,"  she  said,  "  is  there  anyone  on  your  ship 
empowered  to  administer  an  oath?  " 

"  I  have  that  power,"  answered  the  lieutenant- 
commander.  "Why  do  you  ask?" 

"  I  wish  you  would  bring  some  of  your  officers 
here  with  paper  and  ink.  I  wish  to  make  a  deposition 
as  to  the  facts  that  I  have  learned  concerning  this 
man  which  may  be  of  service  to  him  in  establishing 


The  Coming  of  the  World  251 

his   identity   and   discovering   his   history  when   he 
returns  to  the  United  States." 

"  But  are  you  not  going  back  with  us,  Miss  Bren- 
ton?"  asked  the  officer  in  amazement.  "We  are 
sailing  for  Honolulu  and  thence  for  San  Francisco 
as  directly  as  we  can  go." 

"  No,"  said  the  girl,  "  I  will  not  leave  the  island. 
You  can  take  my  friend  here." 

;<  The  Southern  Cross,"  said  Langford,  "  is  at 
your  disposal,  Kate." 

"  I  have  had  one  voyage  upon  her,"  said  the 
woman  bitterly,  "  I  want  never  to  see  her  again." 

'  Woman,"  said  the  man  of  the  island  suddenly, 
"  if  you  stay  here,  I  stay  here.  Without  you,  I  will 
not  go." 

"Not  so,"  said  the  woman  scornfully;  "I  would 
not  be  upon  the  same  island  alone  with  you  again. 
You  have  failed  me." 

Her  voice  broke,  but  she  caught  it  again  instantly 
and  resumed  her  iron  self-control. 

'  Then  if  one  of  us  must  stay,  it  shall  be  I." 

"  No,"  said  the  woman,  "  I  have  been  in  the  world 
and  you  have  not.  You  may  go  and  learn  what  it 
holds  for  you.  I  have  tried  to  prepare  you,  to  give 
you  lessons.  Now,  you  may  put  them  in  practice." 

"  The  island  is  mine,"  said  the  man.  "  I  was  here 
when  you  came.  I  shall  be  here  when  you  return." 

"  We   shall   see,"    returned   the   woman,    looking 


252  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

boldly  at  him.  The  clash  of  wills  almost  struck  fire 
within  the  eyes  of  the  two  who  thus  crossed  swords. 
"  Meanwhile,"  she  turned  to  Langford,  "  if  you  will 
leave  the  island  and  go  back  to  your  ship,  I  shall 
be  very  glad.  There  is  nothing  you  can  do  here. 
You  have  nothing  to  gain  by  remaining." 

"  Kate,"  he  cried,  "  one  last  appeal." 

"  It  is  as  unavailing  as  the  first." 

She  looked  at  him  steadily.  He  saw  that  within 
her  face  and  bearing  which  convinced  him  that  what 
she  said  was  true. 

"At  least,"  he  said  with  the  dignity  of  sorrow  and 
disappointment,  "if  I  have  played  the  fool,  I  have 
done  my  best  to  play  the  man." 

He  turned  slowly  away.  In  a  step  the  woman  was 
by  his  side. 

'  You  have,"  she  said.  "  Whoever  else  has  failed 
me  in  this  hour,  it  has  not  been  you.  I  am  sorry 
that  I  do  not  love  you,  that  I  never  did  love  you, 
and  that  I  cannot  love  you."  She  extended  her  hand 
to  him.  "  Good-by." 

"  Good-by,"  he  said;  "if  you  think  of  me,  re 
member  that  I  did  my  best  to  make  amends,  and  if 
you  ever  change  .  ,.  ,." 

"  I  shall  not  change,"  said  the  woman.  "  Good- 
by." 

He  moved  off  down  the  strand,  called  his  sailors 
to  him,  got  into  his  boat,  shoved  off  and  was  rowed 


The  Coming  of  the  World  253 

over  the  blue  lagoon  and  through  the  opening  in 
the  barrier  toward  the  yacht  tossing  slowly  upon 
the  long  swells  of  the  Pacific. 

"As  for  you,  sir,"  said  the  woman  after  she  had 
watched  Langford  a  little  while  in  silence,  "  will  you 
go  back  and  bring  some  officers  ashore  to  hear  my 
story?" 

"  At  your  wish,  Miss  Brenton,"  said  the  lieutenant- 
commander  gravely. 

The  woman  turned  to  her  companion. 

"Will  you  go  with  them?" 

"And  leave  you  here  alone?"  cried  the  man. 

"  I  shall  be  here  when  you  come  back,  I  give  you 
my  word  upon  it.  I  do  not  break  my  word.  You 
know  whatever  else  you  may  have  against  me,  I 
have  always  told  you  the  truth.  If  you  will  remem 
ber,  I  said  but  yesterday  that  I  was  not  worthy  of 
you." 

She  smiled  bitterly. 

"  And  in  that,  madam,"  said  Whittaker,  "  give  me 
leave  to  say  that  you  broke  your  record  for  veracity." 

"  'Tis  good  of  you  to  say  so,"  she  returned.  "  Be 
lieve  me,  I  have  taken  more  comfort  from  your 
words  and  actions  in  this  dreadful  hour  than  I  had 
dreamed  it  possible  for  men  to  give.  Now,  if  you 
will  all  go  away  and  leave  me  and  not  come  back 
until  evening,  I  shall  be  so  glad  and  so  thankful." 

"  Come,  sir,"  said  the  lieutenant-commander,  not 


254  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

unkindly,  touching  the  man  upon  the  shoulder,  "  as 
a  gentleman  you  cannot  do  less  than  accede  to  the 
lady's  request." 

Suffering  himself  thus  to  be  persuaded,  the  man 
followed  the  officer  into  the  boat  in  which  the  whole 
party  embarked  and  was  rowed  away  from  the  is 
land.  His  first  touch  with  the  world  had  separated 
him  from  the  woman  he  loved  and  who  loved  him. 
Nay,  his  own  frightful  folly,  his  own  blindness,  his 
own  criminal  and  heartless  decision  had  done  that. 
And  the  world  upon  which  humanity  loves  to  load 
the  blame  of  its  transgressions  and  with  which  it 
would  fain  share  the  consequences  of  its  own  follies, 
had  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  it.  In  fact,  it 
was  because  he  was  so  ignorant  of  the  world,  so 
utterly  unable  to  see  things  in  their  relative  values 
— and  in  relation  we  ascertain  truth — that  he  had 
taken  the  tone  that  he  had  used  and  entered  upon  the 
course  which  he  had  followed. 

He  could  only  see  one  thing,  that  this  woman 
whom  he  supposed  belonged  as  completely  and  en 
tirely  and  absolutely  to  him,  who  was  as  fresh  and 
unspotted  from  the  world  as  he  was,  who  had  been 
his  own  even  as  he  had  belonged  entirely  and  ut 
terly  and  absolutely  to  her,  was  .  .  .  different ! 
That  the  difference  was  more  in  his  own  imagination 
than  anywhere  else  brought  him  no  comfort.  He 
still  loved  her,  he  still  wanted  to  marry  her,  but  he 
loved  her  in  spite  of  her  shame.  A  greater,  a  wiser 


The  Coming  of  the  World  255 

man  would  have  loved  her  because  of  it.  And  some 
day  this  fact,  which  he  himself  was  inherently  large 
enough  to  realize,  or  would  be  after  a  time,  would 
cause  him  a  grief  so  great  that  the  anguish  that  he 
suffered  now  would  be  nothing. 

Whittaker  was  a  man  of  great  tact  and  shrewdness 
and  one  with  a  wide  knowledge  of  the  world.  He 
realized  something  of  what  was  in  the  man's  mind. 
He  saw  in  some  measure  how  the  situation  presented 
itself  to  him,  and  he  felt  a  deep  kindness  and  pity 
toward  his  unhappy  fellow  passenger. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

DIVIDED 

THE  best  thing  on  earth  for  a  man  in  the  islander's 
position  would  have  been  isolation  and  a  chance  to 
think  it  over.  The  worst  thing  on  earth  for  a  woman 
in  the  islander's  position  was  isolation  and  a  chance 
to  think  it  over.  If  the  man  had  been  enabled  by 
lack  of  outside  interests  to  give  free  rein  to  his 
thoughts  and  let  them  draw  him  whither  they  would, 
he  might  have  arrived  at  a  different  view  point 
whence  he  could  have  enjoyed  a  sight  of  the  affair 
in  all  its  bearings  and  could  have  adjusted  him 
self  to  them,  but  the  opportunity  he  needed  he  did 
not  get.  He  was  immediately  plunged  in  an  atmos 
phere  of  such  strangeness  to  him,  filled  with  such 
compelling  necessity  for  attention,  that  although  he 
loathed  the  necessity  thus  imposed  upon  him,  he  was 
constrained  to  take  part  in  the  life  that  flowed  around 
him.  His  instinct — and  he  was  almost  a  woman  in 
his  instinctive  capacity — was  to  be  alone,  but  it 
was  impossible,  and  in  spite  of  himself,  what  he  saw 
distracted  him.  The  people  that  he  met  did  more. 
Whittaker  hustled  him  below,  of  course,  as  soon 
as  possible  and  took  him  into  his  own  cabin.  For 
tunately  they  were  men  of  much  the  same  height  and 
build,  although  the  islander  was  the  more  graceful, 

256 


The  Coming  of  the  World  257 

symmetric,  and  strong,  and  he  succeeded  in  getting 
him  into  a  civilian  suit  of  clothing  for  which  he  had 
no  present  use.  There  was  both  loss  and  gain  in 
his  appearance.  There  was  no  gain  in  the  islander's 
feelings,  at  least  he  thought  not,  in  view  of  the  irk 
some  restraint  of  clothing,  and  yet  there  was  a  cer 
tain  satisfaction  to  his  soul  in  being  no  longer  singled 
out  from  among  his  fellows  by  the  strangeness  of 
his  apparel.  As  clothes  the  garments  became  him, 
and  it  all  depended  upon  your  point  of  view  as  to 
whether  you  preferred  the  handsome  barbarian  with 
a  hint  of  civilization  in  his  carriage,  or  the  civilized 
gentleman  with  a  suggestion  of  the  barbaric  in  his 
bearing.  Whittaker  reasoned  rightly  that  the  sooner 
he  became  accustomed  to  these  things,  the  better, 
and  that  the  time  to  begin  was  immediately. 

He  had  had  a  hasty  word  or  two  with  the  captain 
before  he  took  him  below,  and  when  he  was  dressed 
— and  it  required  much  assistance  from  the  lieutenant- 
commander  ere  the  unfamiliar  habiliments  were  prop 
erly  adjusted — the  two  passed  from  the  ward  room 
to  the  cabin  of  the  captain  in  the  after  part  of  the 
ship. 

The  few  sentences  in  which  Whittaker  had  made 
his  first  brief  report  to  his  superior  had  in  a  measure 
prepared  the  captain  for  the  more  lengthy  discourse 
that  followed,  and  feeling  that  the  situation  was  one 
which  required  more  than  the  simple  authority  of 
the  master  of  a  ship,  he  had  summoned  to  confer- 


258  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

ence  the  surgeon  and  the  chaplain.  It  was  to  these 
three  men,  therefore,  that  Whittaker  and  the  is 
lander  presented  themselves. 

The  chaplain,  like  Whittaker,  was  a  Virginian. 
He  had  not  noted  the  islander's  face  when  he  came 
aboard  in  his  semi-savage  garb,  but  as  his  eye  dwelt 
upon  him  standing  clothed  and  in  his  right  mind  be 
fore  him,  he  gave  a  start  of  surprise,  and  so  soon 
as  the  formal  salutations  had  been  exchanged,  with 
a  word  to  the  captain  for  permission,  he  asked 
Whittaker  a  question. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Whittaker,  but  what  is 
this  gentleman's  name?" 

The  word  gentleman  was  used  naturally  and  un 
consciously,  with  an  absolute  sense  of  its  fitness,  as 
everyone  in  the  cabin  could  perceive. 

"  It  is  not  definitely  known,"  said  Whittaker, 
"but  he  is  believed  to  be  a  Virginian  of  the  .  .  ." 

"  I  knew  it,"  said  the  chaplain  impulsively,  "  he 
is  one  of  the  Charnocks  of  Nansemond  County." 

1  Your  recognition,  chaplain,"  said  the  lieutenant- 
commander  eagerly,  "  will  be  of  great  value  in  de 
termining  this  stranger's  name  and  station.  The  evi 
dence  of  it  is  all  circumstantial.  I  do  not  know  how 
it  will  be  regarded  in  a  court  of  law." 

"  I  have  always  understood  that  the  Charnock  es 
tate  was  a  vast  one,"  said  Captain  Ashby,  "  and  since 
coal  has  been  mined  on  the  Virginian  lands,  it  has 
become  very  valuable." 


The  Coming  of  the  World  259 

"  It  is  true,"  answered  the  chaplain. 

"  Who  holds  it  now?  "  asked  the  surgeon. 

"  It  is  held  by  an  old  man,  my  friend  of  many 
years'  standing,  the  brother  of  John  Revell  Char- 
nock." 

"  I  believe  that  to  be  my  name,"  said  the  islander. 

"  I  have  little  doubt  of  it,"  replied  the  chaplain, 
continuing.  u  The  first  John  Revell  Charnock  was 
lost  at  sea.  He  and  his  wife  and  young  child  some 
thirty  years  ago  set  forth  on  a  voyage  around  the 
world  for  her  health.  The  ship,  in  which  I  believe 
he  had  some  ownership,  was  called  the  Nansemond. 
Its  course  was  traced  as  far  as  Valparaiso,  thence 
it  sailed  for  the  Philippines  and  was  never  heard  of 
again.  I  know  the  story,"  said  the  chaplain,  turning 
toward  the  captain,  "  because  John  Revell  Charnock 
was  one  of  my  best  friends,  as  is  his  brother,  Philip 
Norton  Charnock,  who  now  holds  the  estate." 

"  Is  the  present  Charnock  married?  " 

"  No,"  returned  the  chaplain,  "  he  is  an  old 
bachelor." 

'  That  will  make  is  easier  for  our  friend  here," 
said  Mr.  Whittaker,  "  provided  the  evidence  is 
thought  convincing." 

'  The  best  evidence  that  he  could  present,"  re 
turned  the  chaplain,  "  is  in  his  face.  He  is  the  liv 
ing  image  of  his  father  as  I  knew  him,  and  he  has 
family  characteristics  which  I  think  would  enable 
almost  anyone  to  identify  him  without  question." 


260  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

"  Sir,"  said  the  islander,  addressing  the  chaplain, 
"  did  you  know  my  mother?  " 

'  That  I  did,"  returned  the  old  man.  "  Her  name 
was  Mary  Page  Thorton,  and  she  was  one  of  the 
sweetest  girls  in  Virginia." 

"  And  will  you  tell  me  about  her  and  about  my 
father  and  my  people?" 

"With  the  greatest  pleasure,"  said  the  chaplain 
kindly.  "  Meanwhile  Captain  A'shby  and  these  gen 
tlemen  will  wish  to  hear  your  story." 

'  Take  him  to  your  cabin,"  said  the  captain 
promptly,  "  and  tell  him  the  things  he  wants  to 
know.  We  can  wait." 

"  No,"  returned  the  islander,  "  I  can  wait.  I  have 
waited  all  these  years,  and  a  few  hours  more  or  less 
will  make  little  difference.  You  have  a  right  to 
know  my  story,  and  here  it  is." 

Rapidly,  concisely,  with  a  fine  dramatic  touch,  he 
told  the  story  as  he  knew  it  of  his  life  on  the  island. 
He  was  so  entirely  unconventional  that  he  inter 
wove  the  bare  details  of  the  strange  relation  which 
he  gave  them  with  personal  touches.  He  made  no 
secret  of  his  love  and  worship  for  the  girl,  of  the 
belief  in  her  which  he  had  cherished,  of  the  reverence 
in  which  he  had  held  her.  He  exhibited  that  strange 
commixture  of  feeling  with  wrhich  he  regarded  her 
as  a  human  woman  and  as  a  demi-goddess.  He 
showed  that  he  was  at  once  her  master  and  her  crea 
ture,  yet  through  it  all  there  ran  such  a  thread  of 


The   Coming  of  the  World  261 

bitterness,  of  grief,  of  resentment,  of  shame,  that 
his  auditors,  at  first  unpossessed  of  the  key  to  his 
feelings,  listened  to  him  with  amazement  and  could 
scarce  realize  or  comprehend.  He  told  the  story  of 
the  two  lives  up  to  the  sighting  of  the  ship  upon 
the  island,  and  then,  his  heart  failing  him,  he 
turned  to  Whittaker  and  bade  him  take  up  the 
relation. 

It  was  a  delicate  matter  of  which  to  speak,  but 
the  simplicity  with  which  the  first  part  of  the  tale  had 
been  presented  gave  the  officer  his  clew.  He  was  a 
man  of  retentive  memory,  of  quick  apprehensive 
power,  and  with  a  nice  sense  of  discrimination,  a 
rare  man  indeed.  And  he  told  the  rest  of  the  tale 
with  a  subtle  sympathy  for  the  situation  and  the 
actors  that  enabled  him  so  to  present  it  to  the  inter 
ested  little  group  of  officers  that  he  almost  made 
them  see  it  as  it  transpired. 

"  And  what,"  asked  the  captain  when  the  final 
word  had  been  said,  "  do  you  propose  to  do  now, 
Mr.  Charnock?" 

It  was  the  first  time  that  he  had  been  so  addressed, 
and  the  man  started.  He  had  heard  Mr.  Whittaker's 
words  as  one  in  a  dream.  He  had  been  going  over 
that  dreadful  scene  on  the  sands.  His  heart  was 
lacerated  and  torn  again.  He  was  blind  to  every 
thing  but  the  past.  He  saw  her  face  dimly  in  the 
present.  He  could  see  nothing  of  happiness  in  the 
future. 


262  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  answered. 

"  But  surely  this  has  not  made  any  difference  in 
your  feelings?" 

"  I  can't  tell.  The  difference  is  in  her,  not  in 
me." 

"  She  made  a  frightful  mistake,"  said  the 
captain  impressively,  "  but  she  has  nobly  atoned, 
and  .  .  ." 

"  She's  not  what  I  thought  she  was,"  said  the 
man,  "  and  if  I  love  her,  I  love  her  now  not  be 
cause,  but  in  spite,  of  what  she  is,  and  there  is  a 
difference." 

"  Miss  Brenton,"  interposed  Whittaker,  at  this 
juncture,  "  has  settled  the  matter  herself.  She  says 
that  she  will  have  no  man's  pity,  no  man's  contempt, 
that  no  man  shall  marry  her  on  sufferance,  and 
that  ..." 

"  Right,"  said  the  surgeon,  who  was  a  man  of 
very  few  words  and  generally  good  ones. 

"  My  young  friend,"  broke  in  the  chaplain,  "  if 
I  might  advise 

"  But  this,"  returned  the  islander  with  fierceness, 
"  is  not  a  matter  for  advice.  I  don't  know  the  world 
or  its  customs.  I  must  appear  strange  to  you  men. 
But  I  take  it  that  a  man's  choice  of  a  wife,  a  man's 
settlement  of  his  future,  is  not  a  thing  that  he 
brooks  counsel  over.  At  any  rate,  I  want  none  of 
it." 

"Come   with  me,"   said   the   chaplain,    "we  will 


The  Coming  of  the  World  263 

talk  it  over.  I  have  lived  in  the  world,"  he  went  on 
gently.  "  Perhaps  I  can  help  you.  Have  we  your 
permission  to  withdraw,  Captain  Ashby?" 

"  Certainly,"  said  the  captain. 

"  Pardon  me  a  moment,  chaplain,"  interposed 
Whittaker,  "  but  the  young  lady  has  asked  that  some 
of  us  go  ashore  to  take  her  deposition  as  to  the 
matters  that  have  been  alleged  concerning  our  friend 
here.  Captain  Ashby,  will  you?" 

"Certainly,  Mr.  Whittaker,  I  will  go.  And  if 
you  will  accompany  me,  doctor,  and  you,  chaplain, 
I  shall  be  glad.  Mr.  Whittaker,  you  are  a  notary 
public  and  can  administer  the  necessary  oaths." 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  returned  Mr.  Whittaker  as 
the  other  gentlemen  mentioned  bowed  their  ac 
quiescence;  "the  lady  said  she  would  like  to  be  un 
disturbed  until  evening." 

"  At  two  bells  in  the  first  dog  watch  then  have 
the  cutter  called  away,"  returned  the  captain. 

"Beg  pardon,  captain,"  said  the  surgeon,  "but 
do  you  or  any  of  you  know  this  lady  to  be  Miss 
Brenton?" 

"  No,"  said  the  captain,  "  I  don't  know  her.  Do 
you,  Mr.  Whittaker,  or  you,  chaplain?  " 

"  Well  then,"  said  the  surgeon  as  both  the  officers 
shock  their  heads,  "  it  will  be  necessary  to  have  some 
one  ashore  who  does  know  her  in  order  to  swear 
to  her  identity  to  make  her  deposition  worth  any* 
thing." 


264  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

"  There  is  Langford,"  said  Whittaker,  "  he  knows 
her." 

"  Very  good,"  said  the  captain,  "  send  a  boat  over 
to  the  yacht  and  present  my  compliments  to  Mr. 
Langford.  Ask  him  if  he  will  meet  us  ashore  at 
quarter  after  five  o'clock.  Say  to  him  also  that  I 
should  be  glad  to  have  him  dine  with  me  to-night  at 
seven.  Chaplain,  will  you  and  Mr.  Charnock  take 
luncheon  with  me  later?" 

Now,  to  go  back  to  the  island.  The  woman  stood 
on  the  strand  proudly,  resolutely,  sternly  erect  with 
out  a  sign  of  unbending  until  the  boats  reached  the 
sides  of  the  two  ships.  Even  then  she  kept  herself 
in  the  bonds  of  a  control  of  steel.  She  turned  slowly, 
walked  up  the  beach,  entered  the  grove  of  palms,  me 
chanically  found  the  path  and  plodded  along  it,  still 
erect  and  unbending,  until  the  windings  of  the  trail 
and  the  thickening  of  the  grove  hid  her  from  any 
chance  watchers  on  the  ship. 

Then  came  the  moment  of  yielding.  As  if  the 
tension  had  been  suddenly  released,  she  reeled,  stag 
gered,  her  heart  almost  stopped.  Her  instinct  was 
to  throw  herself  prone  upon  the  grass,  but  she  re 
covered  herself  in  time,  and  with  the  natural  inclina 
tion  of  the  troubled  toward  the  place,  however  rude 
and  humble  it  may  be,  that  is  called  home,  she  sum 
moned  her  strength  and  dragged  herself  on  through 
the  trees  over  the  hill — whence  a  backward  glance 
would  have  given  her  a  sight  of  the  ships,  but  she 


The  Coming  of  the  World  265 

never  took  it — down  the  other  slope  across  the  beach 
and  to  the  cave  which  had  been  her  haven  for  these 
three  years. 

Then  and  not  until  then  did  she  give  way  com 
pletely.  She  threw  herself  down  upon  the  sand  in 
the  cool  shadow  of  the  great  rocks  in  what  to  her 
had  suddenly  become  a  weary  land,  and  outstretched 
her  arms  as  if  to  clasp  the  earth  to  her  breast  in 
default  of  the  man  she  had  dreamed  of  and  trusted, 
she  had  loved  and  lived  for,  and  lay  there  a  silent, 
shuddering,  wretched  figure. 

She  was  conscious,  never  more  so,  of  her  own 
entire  innocence,  of  her  own  purity  of  soul.  Into 
her  heart  had  entered  nothing  that  had  defiled  her, 
and  out  of  it  nothing  of  that  ilk  had  come.  And  yet 
there  was  a  soiling  bodily  consciousness  in  her  mind. 
The  terrible  interviews  of  the  morning  had  brought 
it  all  back.  Her  fingers  clenched  and  unclenched. 

Langford  had  craved  opportunity  for  expiation. 
He  had  offered  amends.  She  could  not  but  believe 
that  his  heart  was  in  his  words.  But  what  amends 
could  there  be?  What  expiation  could  he  offer? 
Not  all  the  waters  of  the  blue  Pacific  could  wash  out 
the  damned  spots  that  loomed  so  black  and  so  huge 
before  the  eyes  of  the  one  man  in  whose  vision  she 
would  fain  be  sweet  and  pure  and  innocent. 

She  had  thought  bitterly  in  times  gone  past,  when 
she  had  realized  her  situation,  of  the  voice  of  the 
world.  She  had  insisted  that  he  should  not  think  of 


266  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

any  future  relationship  to  her  until  he  had  heard  the 
voice  of  the  world.  She  had  believed  that  the 
world's  voice  would  condemn  her;  that  the  world 
would  disbelieve  her;  that  the  world  would  see  no 
possibility  of  sweetness  and  light  in  her;  that  its 
mockery  and  its  scorn  would  be  hurled  upon  her; 
that  its  cry  would  be  "Away  with  her!  " 

But  she  had  believed  that  he  would  be  different; 
that  he  would  see  that  she  had  been  sinned  against 
rather  than  sinning;  that  she  had  been  led  astray  by 
a  false  philosophy  for  which  in  large  measure  her 
training  and  heredity  had  been  responsible;  that  the 
step  she  had  taken  involved  no  moral  turpitude 
and  carried  no  evil  consequences.  She  had  made 
him,  God  and  she  together.  In  him  she  believed. 
She  had  spoken  of  a  test,  but  in  a  last  analysis  she 
would  have  taken  him  without  the  test,  confident  in 
his  love  and  in  his  acquittal  of  her  if  her  cause 
should  ever  be  pleaded  before  the  bar  of  his  judg 
ment. 

He  and  the  world,  the  one  to  sustain  her,  the 
other  to  despise  her;  this  she  had  expected,  and  in 
both  instances  she  had  been  grievously  mistaken.  If 
Whittaker  and  his  men  represented  the  voice  of  the 
world — and  there  was  no  reason  why  she  should  be 
lieve  that  they  did  not — the  world  would  withhold 
denunciation;  it  would  extend  pity.  Pity  was  not 
particularly  agreeable  to  a  proud  woman  such  as 
she  was,  but  at  least  it  was  not  bitter  censure  and 


The  Coming  of  the  World  267 

scorn,  which  was,  after  all,  what  she  had  received 
from  the  man  in  whom  she  trusted. 

She  did  not  make  any  allowance  for  the  man  at 
that  moment.  It  might  have  been  thought  strange 
that  she  had  developed  such  a  deep,  pervading  pas 
sion  for  him.  She  had  loved  not  merely  his  actual 
ities  but  his  potentialities,  which  with  prescient  eye 
she  had  divined.  She  knew,  or  thought  she  knew,  of 
what  this  man  was  capable.  And  now  in  the  first 
moment  of  trial  he  had  shown  himself  unworthy. 
It  is  true  he  still  wanted  to  marry  her;  he  was  still 
willing  to  do  so.  But  she  had  refused  Langford's 
offer,  which  ninety-nine  women  in  a  hundred  in  her 
position  would  have  jumped  at,  because  she  would 
not  give  a  man  her  hand  where  her  heart  did  not  go; 
she  could  not,  as  she  had  said,  see  that  that  which 
she  would  regard  as  crime  could  make  anything  else 
that  had  transpired  right.  Neither  would  she  ac 
cept  anything  from  her  island  companion  which  did 
not  carry  his  whole  heart.  She  would  be  nothing  to 
the  one  man  unless  she  loved  him,  and  the  other  man 
should  be  nothing  to  her  unless  she  seemed  to  him  the 
supremest  thing  in  this  world. 

She  had  had  many  hours  to  herself  in  that  long 
island  sojourn,  and  the  sweetest  thought  that  had 
come  to  her  had  been  the  relationship  in  which  she 
stood  to  this  man.  She  had  gloried  in  the  position 
in  which  he  had  placed  her.  She  had  stood  at  ease 
and  happy  on  the  pedestal  upon  which  he  had  en~ 


268  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

throned  her.  And  now  to  be  toppled  over,  to  be 
thrown  at  his  feet  as  it  were,  to  receive  the  charity 
of  his  condescension  rather  than  the  uprush  of  his 
adoration — she  could  not  endure  it. 

Her  crushing  disappointment  at  his  failure  to  rise 
to  the  measure  of  her  ideal  of  him,  the  total  end  of 
her  dream  of  happiness,  the  breaking  of  all  her 
hopes,  the  closing  of  all  her  ambitions,  the  tearing 
asunder  of  her  heartstrings,  whelmed  her  in  agony. 
She  had  thought  that  never  could  humanity  experi 
ence  more  than  the  pain  superinduced  by  the  horror 
of  her  position  upon  the  ship,  but  that  pain  to  the 
present  was  like  a  caress.  For  to  all  that  old 
horror  was  added  a  new  sense  of  loss,  of  disappoint 
ment  and  despair.  She  had  not  loved  before;  now 
she  did,  and  the  sorrow  and  anguish  were  measured 
by  the  depth  and  power  of  her  passion.  The  period 
on  the  yacht  had  been  an  episode.  This  was  life, 
eternal  life  or  death,  she  thought.  And  it  shows 
the  power  of  the  episode  that  it  had  colored  and 
would  color — was  it  darkly? — all  the  future. 

That  Christian  philosophy  which  she  had  fondly 
believed  she  had  acquired  and  in  which — O  fatal  er 
ror! — she  had  somehow  taken  pride,  fell  from  her 
like  every  other  quality,  good  or  bad,  that  is  de 
veloped  alone.  It  had  lacked  exercise.  She,  too,  had 
submitted  to  no  tests  since  she  had  come  to  the  is 
land.  She  had  surmounted  no  temptations.  She 
had  fought  no  battles.  She  had  not  become  a  veteran 


The  Coming  of  the  World  269 

by  conquest.  She  had  not  perfected  her  offensive 
and  defensive  weapons  by  a  series  of  smaller  con 
flicts  which  would  give  her  confidence  and  courage 
to  fight  the  great  and  final  battle.  Like  Elijah  of 
old,  dismayed,  disheartened,  broken,  she  prayed  that 
she  might  die,  there  on  the  sands. 


'CHAPTER   XIX 

THE    MAN'S     FAILURE 

AT  five  o'clock  a  boat  put  off  from  the  big  white 
cruiser,  conveying  the  islander,  the  captain,  the  other 
officers,  and  Langford  to  the  shore.  The  woman  met 
them  on  the  sand.  She  had  discarded  her  woven 
tunic  and  was  dressed  in  the  faded  blue  blouse  and 
skirt  she  had  worn  when  she  had  left  the  yacht  and 
which  she  had  ever  since  preserved  with  such  scrupu 
lous  care  for  an  emergency  like  this.  Well  was  it  for 
her  that  the  garments  were  loose  and  easy  fitting,  else 
she  could  not  have  put  them  on,  so  splendidly  had 
she  developed  in  waist  and  chest  and  limb.  She 
wore  stockings  and  shoes,  and,  save  for  a  certain 
natural  elegance  and  freedom  in  her  bearing,  she 
looked  much  as  any  other  woman,  except  that  few 
women  were  so  beautiful  as  she. 

The  man  was  greatly  surprised.  He  had  never 
seen  her  in  this  dress  with  any  conscious  recollection 
of  the  fact.  She  had  had  wit  enough  to  perceive  that 
having  chosen  a  costume  she  must  stick  to  it,  and  she 
had  never  after  worn  her  civilized  clothes,  never  even 
alluded  to  them,  and  as  he  had  never  entered  her 
cave  after  he  had  begun  to  understand  and  notice 
things,  he  had  not  even  suspected  her  of  the  posses 
sion  of  them.  It  seemed  a  different  woman,  there 
fore,  who  met  him  on  the  strand,  one  that  he  did 

270 


The  Coming  of  the  World  271 

not  know,  that  he  did  not  understand.  Some  of  the 
ways  of  social  life  which  had  been  discarded  had 
come  back  to  her  with  her  dress. 

On  her  part  she  was  scarcely  less  susprised  than  he. 
She  had  often  imagined  what  he  might  look  like  in 
garments  common  to  his  sex  and  period,  but  her 
imaginings  had  not  prepared  her  for  what  she  saw. 
Convention  did  not  ill  become  him.  If  she  had 
loved  him  in  the  wild  and  savage  dress  they  had  been 
compelled  to  assume,  she  did  not  love  him  less  when 
she  saw  him  measured  by  his  fellows  in  the  garments 
natural  and  peculiar  to  them.  He  towered  above  all 
the  party  except  Whittaker,  and  even  the  lieutenant- 
commander  was  not  the  man  that  her  lover  was,  she 
thought.  Her  lover?  .  .  .  She  wondered. 

Her  face,  always  colorless,  was  paler  than  ever. 
Something  of  the  anguish  that  she  had  gone  through 
was  seen  there  by  the  keen  eyes  of  Whittaker  at  least, 
and  even  the  others  could  notice  the  strong  constraint 
she  put  upon  herself,  and  the  evidences  of  self-re 
straint  were  painfully  apparent. 

After  a  momentary  hesitation  and  a  glance  at  the 
islander,  who,  after  his  first  swift  comprehending 
survey  of  the  woman,  stood  with  averted  head — she 
conscious  painfully  of  his  every  gesture  and  move 
ment — the  lieutenant-commander  performed  the  nec 
essary  introductions.  This  ceremony  over,  it  was  the 
woman  who  spoke. 

"  I  sent  for  you,  gentlemen,"  she  began,  "  in  order 


272  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

that  a  necessary  deposition  might  be  made  to  enable, 
if  possible,  my  .  .  ."  she  paused  and  bowed 
formally  toward  the  islander — "  this  gentleman,  to 
establish  his  identity,  upon  which,  as  I  learn  from 
Mr.  Whittaker,  much  seems  to  depend.  I  have 
here  .  .  ." 

"  But  could  you  not  do  this  more  conveniently  later 
on  the  ship,  Miss  Brenton?"  interposed  the  captain. 
He  had  been  told  that  she  intended  to  stay  on  the 
island,  but  he  could  not  believe  it.  "  We  shall  be 
very  glad  indeed  to  offer  you  passage  home.  The 
ship  is  fitted  for  a  flag,  and  the  admiral's  quarters 
are  yours  to  command.  We  are  sailing  direct  to  the 
United  States,  with  a  stop  at  Honolulu,  and  will  be 
glad  to  restore  you  to  your  friends." 

"  Sir,"  said  the  woman,  "  I  have  no  friends  who 
care  enough  about  me  to  welcome  me  or  whom  I 
care  enough  about  to  wish  to  see.  My  mind  is  made 
up.  I  shall  stay  on  the  island,  at  least  for  the 
present." 

"  But,  my  dear  young  lady,"  began  the  officer. 

"Captain  Ashby,"  said  the  woman,  "you  are  the 
commander  of  that  ship?  " 

"  I  am." 

'  To  you  is  committed  the  ordering  of  her 
course?  " 

"  Of  course." 

'  You  decide  all  questions  connected  with  her  on 
your  own  responsibility?" 


The  Coming  of  the  World  273 

"  I  do,  certainly,  but     .     .     ." 

"  Sir,  this  is  my  ship,  this  island.  If  I  choose  to 
stay  here,  I  cannot  think  you  will  endeavor  to  take 
me  hence  by  force." 

"  By  no  means." 

"  Nor  have  I  any  more  fondness  for  having  my 
decisions  discussed  than  you  would  have  for  hearing 
your  orders  argued  or  questioned." 

"  It  is  my  island,"  cried  the  man  roughly,  "  and  if 
you  stay,  I  stay." 

"We  lose  time,"  said  the  woman  shortly.  "  I  am 
here  to  give  my  testimony;  are  you  prepared  to  take 
it?" 

"  I  am,"  said  the  lieutenant-commander,  stepping 
forward,  note  book  in  hand. 

"  Captain,  will  you  conduct  the  necessary  in 
quiry?  " 

"  Certainly,"  said  the  captain.  "  Mr.  Langford, 
do  you  identify  this  lady?" 

"  I  do,  sir,"  answered  Langford.  "  She  is  Miss 
Katharine  Brenton  of  San  Francisco." 

'  You  say  this  of  your  own  personal  knowledge?  " 

11  Yes,  sir." 

"  You  will  make  affidavit  to  that  fact?  " 

"  With  pleasure." 

"  I  wondered,"  said  the  woman  bitterly,  "  why  you 
came  back." 

"  It  was  at  my  wish,  madam,"  returned  Captain 
Ashby  formally. 


274  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

He  was  not  greatly  prepossessed  with  the  impera 
tive  manner  and  demeanor  of  this  young  woman,  but 
he  did  not  see  exactly  how  he  could  resent  it,  or  force 
any  improvement  in  it.  "  Will  you  proceed  now 
with  your  story,"  he  continued.  "  Will  you  speak 
slowly  so  that  Mr.  Whittaker,  who  does  not  writt 
shorthand,  can  take  it  down?" 

Thereupon  the  woman  told  that  portion  of  her  tale 
which  related  to  the  evidence  which  she  exhibited,  the 
piece  of  the  boat  with  the  name  of  the  ship  upon  it, 
the  dog  collar,  the  silver  box,  the  Bible,  the  two 
rings.  These  were  marked,  set  down  and  sworn  to. 
The  affidavit  to  which  she  subscribed  her  name  and 
to  which  she  took  oath  on  the  very  Bible  of  the 
island  was  brief,  though  comprehensive,  and  the  little 
ceremony  was  soon  over.  Mr.  Whittaker  assumed 
charge  of  all  the  exhibits  except  the  Bible,  which  the 
woman  expressed  a  desire  to  retain  until  the  next 
morning.  The  tale  having  been  completed  and  all 
these  formalities  being  got  through  with,  the  men 
stood  around  in  awkward  silence  wondering  what 
was  next  to  be  done. 

"  Miss  Brenton,"  said  the  captain,  at  last  breaking 
the  pause,  "  it  seems  a  shame.  For  God's  sake,  re 
consider  your  decision  and  come  off  to  the  ship !  " 

"  No,"  returned  the  woman  quietly,  "  my  mind  is 
made  up." 

"  Katharine,"  exclaimed  Langford,  extending  his 
hand  in  one  final  appeal. 


The  Coming  of  the  World 

"  Not  with  you,  either,"  said  the  woman. 

"  My  dear  young  lady,"  began  the  old  chaplain, 
"  think  what  it  is  you  do.  Has  any  human  being 
with  such  powers  as  you  possess  a  right  to  bury  her 
self  in  this  lonely  island?  Is  there  no  call  .  .  ." 

"  Sir,"  the  woman  interposed,  "  your  plea  might 
move  me  if  anything  could,  but  indeed  'tis  as  useless 
as  the  rest." 

"  Hear  mine  then,"  said  the  man  abruptly,  even 
harshly. 

The  woman  turned  and  faced  him  as  unrelenting 
and  as  determined  as  she  had  faced  the  others. 
What  could  he  say?  There  was  but  one  plea  that 
could  move  her.  Was  he  about  to  make  that? 

"  We  have  loved  each  other,"  he  went  on  brok 
enly.  "  It  was  my  dearest  wish,  my  most  settled 
determination,  to  make  you  my  wife  if  the  opportun 
ity  ever  presented.  That  wish  I  still  entertain,  that 
determination  has  not  departed  from  me.  You  have 
refused  to  marry  that  man  .  .  ." 

"  And  would  you  have  me  do  so?"  asked  the 
woman. 

"  No,  a  thousand  times  no.  I  am  sorrier  every 
moment  that  I  look  at  him  that  I  did  not  kill  him. 
But  having  refused  him,  there  is  nothing  now  that 
you  can  do  but  marry  me.  And  as  you  have  refused 
him,  it  makes  it  more  incumbent  upon  me  to  marry 
you  and  to  take  you  away.  Your  honor  demands  it.'* 

"  My  honor !  "  flamed  out  the  woman  indignantly. 


276  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

"  I  have  said  it,"  returned  the  man  doggedly. 

"  Gentlemen,  you  will  forgive  our  frankness,"  said 
the  woman,  turning  to  the  little  group,  who  waited, 
all  except  Langford,  who  had  walked  away  out  of 
earshot  and  who  resolutely  kept  his  back  toward  the 
party,  "  but  this  thing  has  to  be  settled.  Now,"  said 
the  woman,  "here  is  no  question  of  honor,  but  of 
love.  I  ask  you,  Man,  do  you  love  me  as  you  did 
last  night?  " 

"  I     .     .     ."  he  began  falteringly. 

'  You  have  never  told  me  a  lie,"  she  continued. 
'  You  have  never  known  anything  but  the  truth." 

"  Until  I  learned  from  you,"  cried  the  man,  "  what 
you  had  concealed." 

The  woman  smiled  bitterly,  waving  aside  this  cruel 
stab. 

"  Tell  me  the  truth.  Do  you  love  me  as  you  did 
last  night?" 

"  If  you  will  have  it,  no,"  said  the  man,  rushing 
to  his  doom. 

Men  have  taken  a  bullet  in  the  breast,  a  shot  in 
the  heart,  and  for  a  moment  have  maintained  their 
erect  position.  The  woman  knew  in  that  moment 
how  such  things  could  be. 

"But  I  love  you  still,"  said  the  man.  "And  I 
still  want  you  for  my  wife." 

"  Last  night,"  went  on  the  woman  as  if  in  a  dream, 
"I  seemed  to  you  the  embodiment  of  every  excellence 
that  humanity  can  possess  short  of  the  divine." 


The  Coming  of  the  World  277 

"  Yes,"  said  the  man,  "  I  loved  you  as     .     .     ." 

"  Do  I  still  possess  those  qualities  in  your  eyes?" 

He  hesitated.     He  strove  to  speak. 

"  The  truth !  The  truth !  "  whispered  the  woman. 
"  Nothing  else,  so  help  your  God  ! " 

"  No,"  said  the  man,  "  but  I  love  you  still,  and  you 
ought  to  marry  me,  you  must.  Can't  you  under 
stand?" 

"  Listen,"  said  the  woman  fiercely.  "  I  did  not 
go  to  that  man  yonder  although  he  offered  me  every 
thing  that  honor  could  dictate  and  that  true  affection 
could  suggest,  I  do  believe,  because  I  did  not  love 
him,  although  I  have  since  come  to  respect  him  after 
I  have  thought  it  over.  It  is  not  duty,  but  love, 
which  is  the  compelling  motive  in  this  matter.  And 
I  won't  take  you,  I  would  not  take  an  angel  from 
heaven  unless  he  thought  me  in  every  particular  all 
that  a  woman  should  be  to  a  man,  unless  he  loved  me 
with  his  whole  heart  and  soul  absolutely,  unfeignedly, 
completely.  You  don't.  I  don't  even  think  that  I 
love  you  now.  You  have  been  tried  and  tested,  and 
you  have  failed.  Gentlemen,  will  you  take  him 
away?  " 

"  I  stay  here,"  said  the  man  bluntly,  drawing  apart 
from  the  others,  "and  I  will  kill  with  my  own  hands 
the  man  who  lays  finger  upon  me." 

"  Sir,"  said  the  captain,  "  this  land,  I  take  it,  is 
the  United  States.  As  the  ranking  officer  present,  I 
represent  its  law.  It  is  under  my  rule.  As  to  your 


278  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

choice,  I  have  nothing  to  say,  but  as  far  as  regards 
other  things,  you  will  have  to  obey  me  here  as  any 
other  citizen  of  our  country." 

"And  I  know  nothing  of  the  United  States  or  its 
laws,"  answered  the  man  proudly,  "  I  am  a  law  unto 
myself." 

'  The  first  lesson  that  the  world  will  teach  you, 
sir,"  returned  the  captain  pointedly,  "  is  that  that 
position  cannot  be  maintained;  that  the  whole  fabric 
of  civilization  depends  upon  concession  by  individuals 
of  natural  rights,  and  upon  the  enforcement  of  these 
concessions  by  other  individuals  to  whom  has  been 
delegated  that  power." 

"  I  don't  wish  to  learn  it,  and  that  is  why  I  will  not 
leave  this  island,"  persisted  the  man. 

It  was  the  woman  who  intervened.  She  stepped 
close  to  the  man  and  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm. 

"  You  said  that  in  some  fashion  you  loved  me,'* 
she  urged. 

"  In  some  fashion  I  do,"  he  replied. 

"  It  grows  late.  Captain,  can  your  ship  lie  by  the 
island  until  morning?" 

"  If  you  wish,  certainly,"  returned  the  captain. 

"  Very  well.  Man,  will  you  then  go  aboard  the 
ship  with  these  gentlemen  and  leave  me  alone  here 
for  the  night?  " 

"  Alone,  madam  1  "  exclaimed  the  captain. 

"  Certainly,  sir,"  returned  the  woman.  "There  is 
not  a  harmful  thing  upon  the  island.  You  can  come 


The  Coming  of  the  World  279 

back  in  the  morning  and  we  will  discuss  then  what 
is  best  to  be  done.  Really,  gentlemen,"  she  went  on 
with  a  piteous  tremble  of  her  lip,  for  one  moment 
losing  her  control,  "  I  have  been  tried  beyond  the 
strength  of  woman  to-day.  If  I  can  have  a  quiet 
rest,  if  in  the  morning  .  .  ." 

"  That  is  reasonable,"  said  the  surgeon.  "  The 
lady  is  in  no  state  for  this  discussion,  nor  indeed 
are  you,  sir,"  he  continued,  looking  hard  at  the 
man. 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  captain.  "  Come,  Mr. 
Charnock,  you  cannot  refuse  that  request;  gentlemen. 
Madam,  good-night." 

He  turned  away,  followed  by  the  others.  Char- 
nock  for  the  moment  hesitated. 

u  I  give  you  one  more  chance,"  whispered  the 
woman  in  his  ear.  "  I  think  myself  fit  for  the  wife 
of  any  man;  do  you  think  so?  Do  you  love  me?  Do 
you  care  for  me  as  you  did  last  night?  Can  you 
think  of  me  as  all  that  is  sweet  and  lovely  and  noble 
and  pure,  and  worthy  of  any  man's  affection?  " 

She  bent  closer  toward  him  in  the  intensity  of  her 
feelings.  The  words  rushed  from  her.  The  man 
passed  his  hand  over  his  forehead. 

"  I  can  only  say  what  I  said  before,  that  I  do  love 
you  still,  that  I  will  marry  you,  and  that  you  ought 
to  be  .  .  ." 

"  That  is  enough,"  interrupted  the  woman. 
"Good-by." 


280  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

She  drew  instantly  apart  from  him. 

"  Mr.  Charnock,"  rang  the  captain's  voice  impera 
tively. 

Slowly  the  islander  turned  and  made  his  way  to 
the  sea  after  the  others. 

The  woman  thus  left  alone  upon  the  island  was 
face  to  face  with  a  crisis  which  could  only  be  met  in 
two  ways.  Either  she  must  go  away  with  the  man, 
or  they  must  both  remain  on  the  island.  It  was  pos 
sible  that  the  captain  might  be  induced  to  use  force 
to  take  the  man  away,  but  that  was  not  likely,  and  if 
it  were  attempted,  she  believed,  with  much  founda 
tion  for  her  belief,  that  the  man  who  had  never  been 
coerced  by  a  human  being  except  by  her  would  fight 
until  he  died.  She  could  not  go  away  with  him ;  she 
could  not  live  with  him  on  the  island.  A  future 
opened  before  him.  She  had  learned  that  afternoon 
on  the  sand  that  if  his  identity  could  be  established, 
he  would  be  a  man  of  great  wealth,  a  power,  a  factor 
in  the  world's  affairs.  She  had  had  her  experience 
in  life,  her  taste  of  power.  It  did  not  matter  about 
her.  It  mattered  greatly  about  him. 

She  had  given  him  a  final  chance.  He  did  not  love 
her  as  she  would  be  loved.  He  could  not  love  her. 
It  was  evident  to  her  that  he  never  would.  She  had 
nothing  to  live  for,  nothing  to  hope  for,  nothing  to 
dream  about.  There  was  one  way  of  cutting  the 
Gordian  knot;  she  could  die.  And  yet  somehow  the 
instinct  of  life  was  strong  in  her  heart. 


The  Coming  of  the  World  281 

She  crossed  the  island  to  her  side,  where  she  was 
hidden  from  the  ship,  and  went  down  to  the  edge  of 
the  water.  She  even  slipped  off  the  garments  of 
civilization  and  stood  forth  a  primitive  Eve  and 
waded  out  a  little  way  into  the  lagoon.  The  night 
had  fallen  and  she  was  calm  in  the  screen  of  the  dark 
ness.  She  could  easily  swim  out  to  the  barrier  reef, 
clamber  upon  it,  and  then  plunge  into  the  blue  Pacific 
and  swim  on  and  on,  and  fight  and  fight  until  the  last 
vestige  of  her  strength  was  gone,  and  then  sink 
down,  leaving  him  free  and  settling  the  question. 
And  yet  the  waters  lapping  about  her  feet  retarded 
her  in  her  advance,  held  her  back,  drove  her  back. 

Could  she  do  it?  Should  she  do  it?  At  least  she 
would  not  give  up  the  idea  for  want  of  trying.  She 
resolutely  set  herself  to  wade  into  the  deeper  sea. 
That  she  waded  was  evidence  of  her  indecision. 
Under  other  circumstances,  or  had  she  been  clear  in 
her  mind  as  to  her  course,  a  quick  run,  a  spring,  a 
splash,  and  she  would  have  been  in  the  midst  of  the 
lagoon.  She  went  slowly,  and  as  the  water  grew 
deeper,  she  went  more  slowly.  It  was  warm  and 
pleasant  in  the  lagoon.  The  slight  difference  of 
temperature  between  the  water  and  the  air  ordinarily 
was  only  stimulating.  And  yet  the  sea  had  never 
seemed  so  cold  to  her  as  it  was  in  that  hour. 

She  was  young,  strong,  splendidly  dowered  with 
health  and  bodily  vigor.  The  mere  animal  clinging 
to  life  was  intense  in  her.  It  does  not  minimize  her 


282  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

heartbreak  or  her  resolution  to  settle  the  question 
that  she  found  it  hard  to  go  on.  By  and  by  she 
stopped,  the  waters  now  up  to  her  breast.  The  wind 
blew  gently  toward  the  land  and  the  land  waves 
struck  her  softly  and  beat  her  back.  She  stopped 
dead  still  and  thought  and  thought,  wrestling  with 
her  problem,  full  of  passionate  disappointment,  vain 
regret,  despair,  conscious  that  life  held  nothing  for 
her,  and  yet  clinging  to  it,  unknowing  what  would 
be  the  outcome  of  the  Titanic  struggle  raging  in  her 
breast  between  primal  passions,  love  of  life,  and 
love  of  man! 


CHAPTER   XX 

THE    REPENTANCE    THAT    CAME    TOO    LATE 

FOR  the  first  time  in  his  life,  the  man  of  the  island 
played  the  coward.  He  \vas  afraid  to  be  alone. 
The  others,  the  officers  of  the  ship,  that  is,  not  Lang- 
ford — he  had  gone  back  to  his  own  yacht,  declining 
the  captain's  invitation  to  dinner — would  have  re 
spected  the  islander's  mood  and  have  left  him  to  him 
self,  but  it  was  evident  that  he  craved  their  society. 
Whittaker  and  the  old  chaplain  suspected  how  it 
would  be  with  him,  but  they  knew  that  sooner  or 
later  he  would  have  to  retire  to  rest  and  sooner  or 
later  he  would  be  alone. 

Their  sympathies  were  entirely  on  the  woman's 
side.  If  the  man  had  been  an  ordinary,  normal  man, 
they  would  not  have  tolerated  his  conduct  for  an 
instant,  although  any  interference  on  the  part  of 
strangers  would  in  truth  have  been  a  very  delicate 
matter  in  such  an  affair  of  the  heart.  But  they  real 
ized  instinctively  that  he  could  not  be  judged  as  other 
men;  that  whatever  his  training  and  teaching  had 
been,  he  had  not  had  the  advantages  that  the  world 
would  give,  which  not  the  most  beautiful  and  de 
voted  of  women  could  impart  unaided,  and  that  he 
was  to  be  pitied  rather  than  condemned  and  blamed. 

283 


284  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

And  then  his  grief  was  so  obvious  that  in  accord 
ance  with  a  natural  and  commendable  tendency  they 
strove  to  cheer  him  up.  They  encouraged  him  to 
ask  questions.  They  told  him  many  things  in  reply 
that  the  woman  could  not  have  told  him ;  that  he  had 
half  dimly  suspected,  but  had  not  known.  They 
cleared  up  to  him  many  things  which  had  seemed 
mysteries  and  strange  to  him. 

And  on  their  part  they  marveled  at  the  things  he 
did  know,  at  the  thoroughness  with  which  he  had 
been  taught,  and  at  the  wonderful  acuteness  of  per 
ception  which  he  displayed.  The  woman  had  mar 
veled  at  it,  too,  but  she  had  become  used  to  it  in 
three  years  of  intimacy.  They  saw  it  immediately 
with  greater  surprise. 

In  such  engrossing  conversation  the  long  hours 
passed  until  the  striking  couplets  of  the  bell  forward 
tolled  eight  and  it  was  midnight.  No  one  had  any 
desire  to  sleep  in  view  of  the  unusual  and  stimulat 
ing  experience  which  both  parties  to  the  interchange 
of  thought  in  the  play  of  question  and  answer  were 
enjoying.  But  it  was  the  captain,  hard-headed  and 
practical,  who  gave  the  signal  for  retiring.  The 
men  were  not  accustomed  to  disregard  even  the  sug 
gestions  of  the  autocrat  of  the  ship. 

A  spare  cabin  in  the  ward-room  had  been  arranged 
for  the  islander,  and  there,  provided  with  the  un 
wonted  luxury  of  night  wear,  after  a  hearty  "  Good 
night  "  from  the  lieutenant-commander  and  a  fervent 


The  Coming  of  the  World  285 

<s  God  bless  you  "  from  the  old  chaplain,  he  was  left 
to  his  own  devices.  The  strangeness  of  his  situation, 
the  soft  bed,  the  snowy  linen,  the  silk  pajamas,  the 
confining  walls  of  the  small  cabin,  the  sudden  intro 
duction  to  the  luxuries  of  civilization,  would  in  itself 
have  kept  him  awake  had  he  been  as  heart-whole 
and  as  care-free  as  when  the  woman  had  landed  upon 
the  island.  But  indeed  the  strangeness  of  these 
things  aroused  no  emotions  in  his  mind  at  all,  for  the 
moment  he  was  alone  his  thoughts,  which  he  had 
been  fighting  desperately  to  keep  upon  other  things, 
reverted  to  her.  What  was  she  doing  for  the  first 
time  alone  upon  that  island?  What  was  she  think 
ing?  He  realized  that  no  more  than  he  could  she 
be  sleeping. 

These  were  the  first  moments  that  he  could  give 
to  reflection,  the  first  quiet  hours  that  he  could  spend 
in  considering  the  situation  and  in  getting  back  his 
rudely  disturbed  balance.  There  had  been  method 
in  his  training,  and  he  had  been  taught  the  value  of 
considering  a  series  of  events  logically  and  in  their 
proper  relationships.  Lying  in  the  comfortable 
berth,  he  reviewed  at  length  and  deliberately  the  his 
tory  of  his  life  from  the  day  that  he  had  been  born, 
when  he  first  bent  over  her  sleeping  upon  the  sand 
until  that  great  glad  hour  when,  the  earthquake  en 
lightening  him,  he  tore  the  rocks  asunder,  clasped 
her  in  his  arms  and  pressed  the  first  kiss  that  he  had 
ever  given  anyone  upon  her  lips. 


286  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

Unflichingly  he  reviewed  with  what  calmness  he 
could  muster  the  scenes  of  the  morning  and  the  day. 
He  forced  himself  to  consider  in  all  its  lights  and 
bearings  the  information  that  had  been  given  to  him. 
He  tortured  himself  by  the  deliberate  slow  recalling 
of  every  detail,  and  then,  quivering  as  if  under  the 
stimulus  of  some  blow  upon  a  raw  and  open  wound, 
he  reviewed  his  own  conduct.  Enlightenment  came 
to  him  in  that  dark  and  silent  hour.  He  discovered 
first  of  all  that  he  loved  her;  that  the  check  and 
counter-check  and  variation  and  alteration  in  his  emo 
tions  had  been  swept  away  in  a  great  development  of 
a  more  transcending  feeling.  If  she  should  ask  him 
that  question  on  the  morrow  as  to  whether  he  loved 
her  as  he  had  on  that  never-to-be-forgotten  night,  he 
would  still  answer  no,  but  now  because  he  loved  her 
more! 

And  then  he  discovered  that  he  wanted  her  more 
than  he  had  ever  desired  her  before;  that  she  was 
more  necessary  to  him  than  ever  he  had  dreamed  she 
would  be;  that  here  was  no  question  of  honor  or 
duty,  indeed,  but  of  love,  overwhelming,  obsessing. 
And  then  he  admitted  that  she  was  purity,  even  holi 
ness  itself;  that  he  had  behaved  to  her  like  a  cur; 
that  he  had  been  neither  grateful,  nor  kind,  nor 
tender,  nor  loving.  He  began  to  wonder  fearfully 
if,  after  having  failed  so  egregiously  and  terribly, 
there  was  any  possible  chance  that  she  could  ever  care 
for  him  again.  Fate  had  brought  her  into  intimate 


The  Coming  of  the  World  287 

contact,  he  realized,  with  two  men.  One  had  treated 
her  outrageously  in  the  beginning  and  had  nobly 
made  amends.  He  hated  Langford,  and  yet  his 
sense  of  justice  forced  him  to  admit  that  he  had 
played  the  man  at  last,  while  he,  the  islander,  had 
also  treated  her  outrageously  and  in  the  end  had 
played  the  fool.  Was  there  a  chance  that  she  would 
forgive  him? 

Before  the  advent  of  the  ship,  he  would  have  said 
instantly,  yes.  But  now  that  he  had  got  even  in  re 
mote  and  ineffective  touch  with  the  world  through  a 
small  section  of  it,  he  was  not  so  sure.  The  other 
man  had  outraged  her  bodily  and  she  had  not  for 
given  him,  although  he  had  abased  himself  to  the 
dust.  He  had  outraged  her  mentally  and  spiritually, 
would  she  forgive  him,  even  if  he  abased  himself 
to  the  dust?  He  was  quite  ready  to  do  it.  He  had 
never  been  so  desperately  lonely  in  all  his  life.  He 
had  passed  many  wakeful  hours  on  that  island  with 
the  breadth  of  the  hill  between  them,  he  in  his  lair 
and  she  in  hers;  he  had  passed  many  hours  in  long 
ing  for  her,  for  the  sound  of  her  voice,  the  look  of 
her  eye,  but  there  had  always  been  a  binding  tie  be 
tween  them.  They  were  there  together  on  that 
island  alone,  each  necessary  to  the  other,  at  least  so 
he  fondly  believed.  It  was  a  tie  that  linked  them 
together  in  their  very  isolation. 

Now,  sleeping  in  the  midst  of  his  fellows, 
separated  from  them  by  the  thin  partitions  of  the 


288  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

ward-room,  able  to  summon  half  a  thousand  men  by 
a  single  call,  able  to  bring  an  attendant  to  him  by  the 
touch  of  a  button,  able  to  flood  the  darkness  with 
light  by  the  touch  of  another — these  things  he  had 
learned  during  the  day — he  was  never  so  much 
alone.  He  wanted  her.  The  rest  of  the  world 
amounted  to  nothing  and  counted  for  nothing.  He 
realized  then  what  it  would  mean  for  him  to  go  out 
among  strangers  without  her. 

The  man  was  in  many  respects  still  a  child.  His 
heart  in  those  sad  and  dreary  hours  yearned  toward 
her  as  the  weaned  babe  yearns  toward  its  mother. 
And  yet  there  was  nothing  weak  or  childish  in  his 
feelings.  He  recognized  his  own  powers,  his  own 
capacities.  He  knew  then  that  she  had  taught  him 
more  things  than  are  learned  in  books.  She  had 
taught  him  manhood  as  she  had  tried  to  teach  him 
honor  and  dignity,  and  if  he  had  failed  once,  if  he 
had  derogated  from  her  high  standard,  he  remem 
bered  that  it  was  through  failure  that  men  achieved. 
He  tried  to  comfort  himself  with  these  thoughts,  but 
with  little  success. 

But  by  and  by  all  these  considerations  faded  away 
or  merged  in  a  great  longing  for  her.  He  had  never 
disturbed  her  in  the  still  watches  of  the  night,  al 
though  he  had  often  been  tempted  to  do  so.  But 
now  the  desire  to  see  her,  to  plead  with  her,  to  beg 
her  forgiveness — not  a  low  desire  or  a  base  one,  he 
thanked  God — was  so  great  that  he  could  no  longer 


The  Coming  of  the  World  289 

sustain  it.  He  rose  to  his  feet  and  looked  out  of 
the  open  porthole.  The  dawn  was  graying  the  east. 
Attired  as  he  was  in  the  loose  shirt  and  trousers  in 
which  he  had  lain  down,  which  were  not  unlike  the 
tunic  that  he  habitually  wore,  save  that  they  were  of 
soft  and  luxurious  silk,  he  opened  the  door  of  the 
cabin,  slipped  noiselessly  out  through  the  silent  ward 
room — he  had  the  natural  savage  art  of  treading 
without  a  sound — ran  lightly  up  the  companion 
ladder  and  stepped  upon  the  deck.  The  officer  of 
the  watch  and  his  midshipman  did  not  notice  him. 
Their  eyes  were  elsewhere.  He  ran  swiftly  across 
the  deck  and  stopped  at  the  gangway.  A  marine 
stood  there  and  started  forward  as  he  approached. 

'  That's  my  island,"  said  the  man.  "  I'm  going 
to  swim  off  to  it,  and  I  don't  wish  to  be  followed." 

"  It's  a  long  swim,  sir,"  ventured  the  marine, 
scarcely  knowing  what  to  do. 

He  stepped  fairly  in  the  gangway  as  if  to  bar  the 
exit. 

"  It  is  nothing  to  me,"  said  the  man.  "  Stand 
aside." 

"  Mr.  Hopkins!"  called  the  marine,  turning  to 
ward  the  officer  of  the  watch. 

"  Aye,  aye,"  came  from  Mr.  Hopkins  as  he  turned 
and  started  forward  to  the  gangway. 

The  next  moment  the  man  had  seized  the  marine 
in  a  grip  which  left  him  helpless,  lifted  him  gently 
out  of  the  gangway,  dropped  him  carelessly  upon 


290  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

the  deck,  and  had  flashed  through  the  air  into  the 
water. 

By  the  time  Mr.  Hopkins  reached  the  gangway, 
the  half-dazed  marine  had  risen  to  his  feet. 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Why,  it's  the  castaway,  sir,  the  wild  man  that 
we  brought  ashore  to-day." 

"Well?" 

"He  said  he  wanted  to  swim  to  the  shore  and 
did  not  want  to  be  followed." 

"  Why  didn't  you  stop  him?  " 

"  I  did  try,  sir,  but  he  picked  me  up  as  if  I  had 
been  a  baby  and  threw  me  aside  and  went  over 
board." 

The  officer  was  in  a  quandary.  He  had  received 
no  orders  to  prevent  the  man  from  leaving  the  ship. 
He  was  not  quite  sure  what  his  duty  was.  At  any 
rate,  he  turned  to  the  boatswain's  mate  and  bade 
him  call  away  a  crew  for  the  cutter  swinging  astern. 
He  directed  the  coxswain  to  bring  the  boat  to  the 
gangway,  and  then  sent  the  midshipman  of  the 
watch  below  to  report  the  matter  to  the  captain  and 
ask  his  orders. 

Captain  Ashby,  as  it  happened,  was  awake.  He 
came  on  deck  immediately  in  his  pajamas  and  re 
ceived  confirmation  of  the  midshipman's  extraordi 
nary  story  from  the  watch  officer.  It  was  light 
enough  now  for  the  waters  and  the  shore  clearly  to 
be  seen.  The  captain  stared  over  the  side.  He 


The  Coming  of  the  World  291 

could  make  out  the  man's  head  swimming  through 
the  opening  in  the  barrier.  He  could  see  the  splash 
that  he  made  in  his  rapid  progress  through  the  quiet 
seas. 

"  Mr.  Hopkins,"  he  said  after  a  moment's 
thought,  "  tell  Mr.  Cady  " — the  midshipman  of  the 
watch — "to  take  the  boat  and  follow  after.  If  the 
man  gets  safely  to  the  shore,  they  are  not  to  disturb 
him,  but  to  come  back  and  report  to  me.  If,  on  the 
contrary,  he  needs  help,  they  are  to  take  him  aboard 
and  bring  him  back  to  the  ship." 

So  much  time  was  lost  in  these  various  maneuvers, 
however,  that  when  the  order  was  carried  out,  the 
boat  had  scarcely  reached  the  entrance  to  the  barrier 
when  they  saw  the  islander  stepping  through  the 
shallow  waters  to  the  beach.  There  was,  therefore, 
nothing  for  Mr.  Cady  to  do  but  come  back  and  re 
port  the  matter  to  the  captain.  When  he  reached 
the  deck  of  the  cruiser  he  found  the  executive  officer, 
with  the  chaplain  and  the  surgeon,  who  had  been 
summoned  from  their  berths,  in  consultation  with  the 
captain.  By  Mr.  Whittaker's  advice,  he  and  the 
chaplain  were  immediately  sent  ashore  to  see  what 
had  happened  and  to  determine  what  was  to  be 
done. 

There  was  considerable  anxiety  in  the  minds  of  the 
quartette  which  had  been  dealing  with  the  affair 
heretofore  as  to  what  conditions  might  be.  They 
did  not  know  the  man.  They  did  not  know  what  he 


292  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

might  be  doing,  or  to  what  danger  the  woman, 
whom  they  all  pitied  most  profoundly,  might  be  ex 
posed.  Of  all  with  whom  he  had  come  in  contact, 
the  lieutenant-commander  and  the  chaplain  were 
those  who  would  have  the  most  influence  over  the 
man  of  the  island,  hence  they  were  dispatched  to  the 
island. 

Another  boat  crew  was  therefore  called  away  and 
the  two  gentlemen  were  rowed  ashore.  It  was  not 
yet  sunrise,  but  still  sufficiently  light  to  enable  them 
to  proceed.  They  were  at  a  loss  at  first  what  to  do, 
for  they  had  not  yet  had  opportunity  for  exploring 
the  island.  They  had  learned  that  the  cave  in  which 
the  woman  dwelt  was  upon  the  other  side,  and  that 
hills  rose  between  the  landing  place  and  her  abode. 
They  knew,  of  course,  that  they  could  get  to  it  by 
following  the  shores  of  the  island,  but  they  had  a 
reasonably  accurate  idea  of  its  size,  and  they  knew 
that  that  would  take  a  great  deal  of  time.  Time 
was  precious.  They  were  becoming  more  and  more 
fearful  with  every  moment. 

They  decided,  therefore,  to  chance  a  direct  march 
over  the  hill  and  across  the  island.  By  great  good 
fortune  they  stumbled  into  the  path,  which  was  now 
sufficiently  defined  in  the  growing  light  to  enable 
them  to  follow  it.  They  climbed  the  hill  as  rapidly 
as  was  consistent  with  the  strength  of  the  chaplain, 
who  was  a  rather  old  man,  and  then,  having  reached 
the  top,  went  down  the  other  side  almost  at  a  run. 


The  Coming  of  the  World  293 

As  they  broke  out  from  under  the  palm  trees  they 
saw  a  dark  object  in  the  gray  of  the  dawn  lying  upon 
the  sands  at  the  water's  edge.  It  was  a  human 
being  undoubtedly.  As  they  ran  toward  it  with 
quickening  heartbeats,  they  recognized  it  as  the 
man.  He  was  lying  motionless  as  if  he  had  been 
struck  dead.  In  a  brief  space  they  reached  him. 
The  lieutenant-commander  knelt  down  by  his  side 
and  turned  him  over  upon  his  back.  He  was  as 
senseless  as  if  he  had  been  smitten  with  a  thunder 
bolt. 

"Is  he  alive?"  asked  the  chaplain,  bending  over 
him. 

Mr.  Whittaker's  hand  searched  his  heart. 

"  It  beats  feebly,"  he  said.  "  He  seems  to  have 
fainted,  collapsed  in  some  strange  way.  I  wish  we 
had  brought  the  surgeon.  I  wonder  what  can  be 
the  cause  of  it." 

"Look!  "  said  the  chaplain. 

He  pointed  to  a  little  heap  of  something  dark  on 
the  sands  a  foot  or  two  away. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  the  officer. 

The  chaplain  stepped  over  to  it. 

"  It  is  the  clothes  of  the  woman,"  he  said  in  an 
awestruck  voice,  "  and  that  Bible  we  were  to  take 
away  with  us  with  the  other  things,  but  which  she 
said  she  would  give  us  in  the  morning." 

"  Great  heavens  1 "  exclaimed  Mr.  Whittaker, 
"you  don't  think  .  .  ." 


294  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

At  the  same  instant  the  same  thought  had  come 
to  both  men. 

"  It  looks  like  it,"  said  the  chaplain  with  bated 
breath.  "  Poor  woman,  may  God  help  her !  " 

"That  is  what  is  the  matter  with  him,"  returned 
the  lieutenant-commander.  "  He  has  sought  her  in 
her  cave  and  has  not  found  her.  He  has  discovered 
these  things  and  he  knows  that  she  is  gone.  The 
shock  has  almost  killed  him." 

"  What  is  to  be  done  now?  " 

Here  the  man  of  action  interposed. 

"  Do  you  watch  by  him,  chaplain,"  said  Mr. 
Whittaker,  rising  as  he  spoke.  "  I  will  go  back  to 
the  landing  upon  the  other  side  and  send  for  the 
doctor.  Then  we  will  bring  a  party  ashore  and 
search  every  foot  of  the  island.  It  is  a  bad  busi 
ness.  To  think  of  that  woman  offering  herself  to 
this  man  in  vain.  The  fool !  " 

"  Don't,"  said  the  chaplain.  "  He  is  not  much 
more  than  a  child  in  spite  of  all  that  he  has  learned. 
We  must  make  allowances  for  him.  He  did  love 
her  evidently.  Look  to  what  her  loss  has  brought 
him.  Perhaps,  stricken  by  the  hand  of  God,  his 
soul  is  going  out  to  meet  hers,  poor  woman." 

''  Well,  we  must  fight  for  his  life  any  way.  Do 
you  stay  here.  I  will  be  back  in  a  short  time." 

The  lieutenant-commander  rose  to  his  feet  and 
started  back  across  the  island  without  another  word. 

The    chaplain    composed    the    members    of    the 


The  Coming  of  the  World  295 

stricken  man,  putting  him  in  a  comfortable  position 
on  the  warm  sand,  then  knelt  down  and  began  to 
pray.  It  seemed  a  long  time  to  the  waiting  priest 
before  his  shipmate  returned,  and  yet  but  a  short 
time  had  elapsed.  He  came  up  panting  from  the 
violence  of  his  exertions. 

"  I  have  sent  the  cutter  back  for  the  surgeon.  I 
told  the  men  to  row  for  their  lives.  I  gave  the  mid 
shipman  in  charge  an  account  of  what  we  had  found, 
and  begged  the  captain  to  send  parties  ashore  to 
search  the  island.  What  of  the  man?" 

"  He  breathes  still,"  said  trie  chaplain.  "  I  should 
think  he  was  in  some  kind  of  syncope.  His  heart 
evidently  was  affected.  He  has  had  no  preparation 
for  such  violent  strains.  The  things  which  are  usual 
and  ordinary  with  us  and  which,  I  take  it,  indurate 
us  to  the  greater  things  of  life,  have  been  conspicuous 
by  their  absence  in  his  case,  and  he  has  not  been  able 
to  bear  up  under  the  sudden  shock." 

" Those  clothes,  have  you  examined  them?" 

"  No,"  said  the  chaplain,  "  it  has  been  too  dark 
in  the  first  place,  and  .  .  ." 

"  I  will  look  at  them,"  said  Mr.  Whittaker. 
"  Perhaps  we  may  find  some  clew  in  them." 

The  lieutenant-commander  stooped  over  the 
pathetic  little  heap  of  worn  garments.  There  were 
the  blouse,  the  skirt,  the  stockings,  and  the  worn  and 
torn  white  shoes.  The  Bible  lay  upon  them  as 
if  to  weigh  them  down,  and  they  had  been  placed 


296  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

well  above  the  reach  of  the  highest  tide.  The  tide 
was  then  just  coming  in  to  the  island.  The  Bible 
had  been  opened  and  laid  face  downward  on  the 
clothes.  Mr.  Whittaker  lifted  it  up  reverently. 
He  observed  as  he  did  so  that  his  own  pencil,  which 
he  had  left,  he  now  remembered,  with  the  woman, 
lay  beneath  the  open  book.  On  the  blank  leaves  be 
tween  the  Old  and  New  Testaments  something  was 
written.  No  mention  of  any  writing  had  been  made 
in  the  affidavit  of  the  night  before.  He  lifted  it, 
turned  his  back  toward  the  east,  where  the  sun  was 
just  on  the  verge  of  rising,  and  scanned  it  atten 
tively. 

"  Do  you  find  anything?  "  asked  the  chaplain. 
'  There  is  writing  on  this  page,"  said  the  younger 
man.     "  I  can  just  make  it  out." 

"  Man,"  he  read  slowly,  studying  each  word  in  the  dim 
light,  "  I  loved  you.  In  one  sense,  in  your  sense,  I  was  un 
worthy  of  you,  perhaps,  but  not  in  mine.  You  alone 
had  my  heart.  The  past  was  a  frightful  mistake  for  which 
I  should  not  be  blamed,  but  for  which  I  must  suffer.  I 
tried  you  with  the  world  by  your  side.  The  world  was 
kind,  but  you  were  not.  You  broke  my  soul  and  killed 
something  within  me  which  I  had  thought  dead  but  which 
you  had  revived.  No  power  could  revive  it  again.  I  can 
not  marry  Langford,  for  I  do  not  love  him.  I  will  not 
marry  you,  for  you  do  not  love  me.  I  will  not  go  back 
to  the  world  now.  I  have  no  desire  to  do  so,  and  I  can 
not  live  alone  with  you  upon  the  island.  You  will  not  go 
without  me,  and  so  I  will  go  first,  by  myself,  alone.  You 


The  Coming  of  the  World  297 

will  think  of  me,  I  know,  in  the  great  world.  Perhaps 
you  will  judge  yourself  harshly,  but  I  do  not  judge  you  at 
all.  You  did  not  know,  you  did  not  understand.  It 
came  too  suddenly  upon  you.  You  cannot  forget  me, 
but  do  not  repine  over  me,  and  remember  to  the  very  last 
I  loved  you.  Good-by.  May  God  bless  you,  and  may 
He  pity  me !  " 

Underneath  she  had  written  the  impersonal  name 
which  he  had  loved  to  call  her,  "  Woman." 

So  characteristic  was  the  letter  that  that  sub 
scription  was  supererogatory,  thought  Mr.  Whit- 
taker.  Only  a  woman  could  have  written  it.  She 
had  gone  out  of  his  life,  because  with  her  in  it  there 
was  no  solution  of  it  for  him,  because — how  pitiful 
it  sounded  there  in  the  gray  of  that  morning  on  that 
lone  island  to  those  two  men! — because  he  did  not 
love  her.  And  she  had  gone  out  of  it  with  excuses 
for  him  on  her  lips  and  love  for  him  in  her  heart. 
No  wonder  that,  divining  this  which  he  had  not 
seen,  realizing  only  that  she  was  gone,  he  had  been 
stricken  as  he  was. 

The  doctor  arrived  presently.  He  ordered  the 
man,  still  unconscious,  to  be  taken  back  to  the  ship 
where  he  would  do  what  he  could  toward  reviving 
him  and  pulling  him  through  this  great  and  terrible 
crisis  that  had  come  upon  him.  The  chaplain  went 
with  him,  conceiving  his  duty  to  be  in  attendance 
upon  the  living  rather  than  in  searching  for  the 
dead. 


298  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

The  captain,  with  the  other  officers,  brought  a 
hundred  men  to  the  shore.  The  island  was  sys 
tematically  searched.  It  was  all  open.  There  was 
no  place  of  concealment,  but  not  a  foot  of  it  was  left 
unvisited.  Again  and  again  the  men  traversed  the 
island.  They  found  nothing,  absolutely  nothing. 
The  woman  had  vanished  and  left  no  trace  except 
the  grass  tunic  in  her  cave,  the  remains  of  her  toilet 
articles,  her  scissors,  knife,  watch,  and  Bible,  and  the 
little  heap  of  clothing  on  the  sand.  All  these  they 
carefully  gathered  up  and  took  back  to  the  cruiser 
for  the  man. 

In  the  search,  and  made  quite  frantic  by  the  ne 
cessity  for  it,  Langford  joined.  Indeed,  he  would 
not  be  persuaded  that  the  woman  he  had  treated  so 
badly,  whom  he  had  hunted  so  determinedly,  whom 
he  had  loved  so  truly,  who  had  rejected  him  finally, 
was  dead,  but  even  he  gave  up  at  last. 

Taking  with  them  the  evidences  to  substantiate  the 
woman's  affidavit  and  to  establish,  if  so  be  it  were 
possible,  the  man's  claim,  and  taking  with  them  also 
the  bones  of  his  mother,  not  forgetting  what  re 
mained  of  the  faithful  dog,  which  the  captain  caused 
to  be  exhumed  from  the  ruined  boat,  as  night  fell  the 
Cheyenne  steamed  away  to  the  northeast,  followed 
not  long  after  by  the  Southern  Cross.  The  two  ves 
sels  went  slowly,  as  if  the  souls  that  animated  them 
were  reluctant  to  leave  the  gem-like  island  where 
they  had  chanced  upon  so  much  that  was  idyllic,  so 


The  Coming  of  the  World  299 

much  that  was  romantic;  and  where  they  had  seen 
so  great  a  tragedy  of  misfortune  and  despair. 

Below  in  the  cabin,  under  the  care  of  the  surgeon 
and  chaplain,  lay  the  islander  in  the  frightful  throes 
of  a  racking  fever  of  the  brain.  He  babbled  of  the 
woman  and  knew  not  whither  he  was  being  borne. 


BOOK  V 
ABANDONED 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  RESURRECTION 

THE  little  island  lay  quiet  and  still  in  the  brilliant 
morning.  No  footfall  pressed  its  bosky  glades;  be 
neath  the  shadows  of  its  spreading  palms  no  human 
being  sought  shelter  from  the  sun's  fierce  rays;  no 
human  voices  were  echoed  back  from  its  jutting 
crags;  no  human  figures  flashed  across  its  shining 
sands.  Soundless  it  lay  save  for  the  cry  of  the  bird 
and  the  rustle  of  the  gentle  wind  across  its  hills. 
For  well-nigh  thirty  years  it  had  not  been  so  aban 
doned.  Two  days  past  it  had  resounded  with  the 
cries  of  men  scaling  its  heights,  crashing  through 
its  coppices,  calling  a  name,  beseeching  an  answer. 
Two  days  before  great  ships  had  drifted  idly  under 
its  lee.  It  had  been  the  center  and  focus  of  great 
events.  Now  it  lay  desolate,  alone. 

On  that  morning  the  tide,  which  had  drawn  away 
from  it  through  the  long  night,  had  turned  and  was 
coming  back.  The  onrush  of  the  water  spent  itself 
upon  the  barrier.  Within  the  lagoon  it  lay  placid,  ris 
ing  gently  inch  by  inch  in  mighty  overflow.  A  watcher, 
had  there  been  one,  would  have  seen  at  sunrise  the 
still  waters  of  the  lagoon  broken  by  a  ripple;  a  keen 
eye  might  have  noticed  at  the  base  of  the  cliff  where 


304  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

it  ran  sheer  down  into  the  blue  a  dark  object  moving 
beneath  the  surface.  The  eye  could  scarcely  have 
become  aware  of  its  presence  before  the  waters 
parted.  A  little  splash,  and  a  head  rose,  dark- 
crowned,  white-faced.  There  was  a  sidewise  wave 
and  shake  of  the  head  and  a  pair  of  eyes  opened. 
The  blue  of  the  water  was  lightened  by  flashes  of 
white  arms.  As  the  body  rose  higher  under  the  im 
petus  of  strokes  vigorous  yet  graceful,  it  could  be 
seen  that  it  was  that  of  a  woman. 

With  ease  and  grace  the  figure  swam  along  the 
base  of  the  cliff  until  it  was  joined  by  a  jutting  spit 
of  sand  which  widened  and  widened  into  the  great 
strip  of  beach  that  ran  around  the  island.  Upon 
this  sand  presently  the  shallowing  of  the  water  gave 
the  swimmer  a  foothold.  Progress  ceased.  With 
eyes  haggard,  yet  keenly  alert,  the  sea,  the  shore, 
the  beach,  the  cliffs,  the  trees  were  eagerly  searched. 
The  long  glances  revealed  no  other  person.  Then 
the  head  was  turned,  and  the  ear  listened  for  sounds, 
and  heard  no  human  call.  The  look  of  apprehen 
sion  faded  into  one  of  dull  relief. 

Walking  now,  the  woman  in  the  water  made  her 
way  toward  the  sand.  Very  white  she  gleamed  in 
the  full  warm  light  streaming  from  the  risen  sun 
against  the  background  of  the  dark,  black  rock. 
The  water  dripping  from  her  exquisitely  graceful 
limbs,  she  looked  a  very  nymph  of  the  sea  as  she 
stepped  out  of  the  shallows  at  last  and  stood  above 


Abandoned  305 

the  high  tide  line,  poised  as  If  for  flight  upon  the 
hard  and  solid  shore.  Again  she  threw  about  her 
that  quick,  apprehensive  look.  Again  she  paused  to 
listen.  Reassured  in  that  she  heard  and  saw  noth 
ing  but  the  bird's  song,  the  wind's  sigh,  the  wave's 
splash,  she  ran  swiftly  toward  a  blacker  opening  in 
the  dark  rock.  She  gleamed  whiter  still  in  the  en 
trance  for  a  moment  and  then  disappeared.  She 
came  forth  presently,  still  unclothed,  a  look  of  dis 
may  on  her  face. 

She  had  many  things  to  do,  much  to  occupy  her 
mind,  but  the  first  duty  that  lay  to  her  hand  and  the 
first  instinct  which  she  followed  was  that  her  naked 
ness  should  be  covered. 

Still  warily  watchful,  still  keenly  alert,  still  fear 
ful  apparently  of  interruption  or  observation,  she  ran 
across  the  beach,  her  movement  as  free,  as  graceful, 
as  rapid  as  she  had  been  Atalanta  herself,  and  dis 
appeared  under  the  trees.  The  whirr  of  birds  dis 
turbed  might  have  marked  her  passage. 

After  some  time  she  appeared  on  the  top  of  the 
high,  bare  hill  that  crowned  the  island.  She  had 
improvised  for  herself  a  covering  out  of  three  or 
four  great  fern  leaves,  soft  and  pliable,  which  she 
fastened  with  palm  fibres  from  shoulder  to  knee  on 
either  side,  her  bare  shoulders  rising  from  the  rich 
greenness  like  a  white  corolla  from  its  verdant  calyx. 
She  went  more  assuredly  now,  partly  because  of  the 
fact  that  she  was  clothed  and  partly  because  her  first 


306  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

rapid  survey  of  the  horizon  revealed  the  fact  that 
the  ships  were  gone. 

Determined  to  make  sure,  she  descended  the  hill 
rapidly  to  the  landing  place  of  the  day  before.  Still 
searching,  she  found  nothing.  She  was  glad  that 
this  was  so,  and  yet,  when  the  full  and  final  realiza 
tion  came  upon  her,  she  knelt  down  on  the  shining 
"sand,  hid  her  face  in  her  arms,  clenched  her  hands 
and  gave  way  to  voiceless  agony.  Sometimes  there 
is  nothing  so  terrible,  she  realized,  as  prayer  granted, 
as  desire  accomplished,  as  undertaking  brought  to 
conclusion.  The  awfulness  of  success  was  upon  her 
in  that  hour.  Her  ruse  had  worked.  Her  object 
had  been  attained,  yet  the  achievement  gave  her  no 
pleasure,  on  the  contrary! 

Her  own  acts  had  parted  her  irrevocably  forever 
from  the  world  and  the  one  man  in  it  who  was  the 
world  for  her.  He  was  gone.  She  who  had  made 
him  had  sent  him  forth  among  his  fellows.  She 
had  sacrificed  herself,  buried  herself  alive  for  him. 
She  felt  as  a  mother  might  who  experiences  birth 
pangs  and  knows  that  with  every  throb  of  tearing 
anguish  her  own  life  ebbs  away,  passes  into  the  new 
life  which  she  ushers  into  the  world  and  gives  to 
men. 

She  had  had  long  hours  for  thought  in  those  two 
days  in  that  cave  whose  mouth  the  waters  hid.  She 
had  schooled  herself  to  face  light  and  life  without 
him  when  she  emerged  from  her  cunning  hiding 


'SHE      HAD     SACRIFICED     HERSELF,      BURIED 
HERSELF    ALIVE    FOR    HIM" 


Abandoned  307 

place.  She  had  waited  the  long  period  in  order  to 
make  absolutely  certain  that  they  all  would  be  gone. 
And  yet,  despite  herself,  a  little  gleam  of  hope,  a 
bare  possibility  that  he  might  still  be  there,  had  ling 
ered  in  her  soul  and  leavened  the  awfulness  of  her 
grief.  Now  that  hope  was  gone.  It  had  disap 
peared  even  as  the  ships  had  disappeared. 

She  had  been  bitter  against  him.  Her  soul  had 
revolted  because  he  had  failed.  She  had  told  her 
self  that  he  was  not  worthy  of  her.  She  forgot 
these  things  in  that  profound  and  desolate  moment. 
She  knew  only  that  she  loved  him.  When  she  could 
think  of  other  things  than  of  him — the  mere  bodily 
presence  of  the  man,  the  look  of  him,  the  sound  of 
his  voice,  the  pressure  of  his  lips,  the  clasp  of  his 
arms — she  began  to  realize  that  as  he  grew  older, 
unless  she  was  so  absolutely  mistaken  in  him  as  to 
make  all  estimate  of  him  a  mockery,  he  would  real 
ize  the  falsity  of  his  view,  the  littleness  of  his  ac 
tion;  and  if  he  were  in  truth  the  man  whom  she 
could  rightly  love,  his  years  would  be  one  long 
regret  that  he  had  failed.  What  would  happen 
when  he  understood  that,  when  he  came  to  the 
knowledge  that  she  was  indeed  all  that  she  had 
seemed,  and  that  he  had  been  nothing  that  he 
should?  She  knew,  as  she  had  written,  that  the  man 
would  never,  could  never,  forget  her;  that  wherever 
he  went  and  whatever  he  did,  she  would  be  present 
with  him;  that  she  had  stamped  herself  too  indelibly 


308  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

upon  his  heart  for  any  attrition  with  humanity,  how 
ever  close  and  persistent,  to  erase  the  image.  He 
would  come  back,  perhaps. 

"  O  God !  "  she  knelt  down  and  lifted  up  her  arms 
toward  heaven,  "bring  him  back,"  she  prayed — a 
few  short,  broken  words,  lacking  the  eloquence  of 
long  and  studied  petition,  the  appeal  of  the  heart 
every  throb  of  which  is  a  prayer — "bring  him  back 
to  me!  " 

She  thought  that  she  would  have  had  him  back  on 
any  terms.  She  said  that  she  had  been  mad,  a  fool, 
not  to  have  taken  him,  not  to  have  gone  to  him,  not 
to  have  married  him  in  any  way,  with  any  conditions, 
under  any  circumstances.  All  her  thoughts  were 
merged  in  one  great  passionate  longing  to  be  with 
him. 

For  the  first  time  in  her  life  the  pangs  of  jealousy 
tore  her  breast.  She  thought  of  him  in  the  world 
with  other  men,  with  other  women,  young,  hand 
some,  a  perfect  god-like  form  and  face  of 
man,  rich,  the  wildest  romance  with  its  charm  and 
mystery  to  attract.  His  story  could  not  be  hid, 
neither  could  hers.  The  man  would  be  courted, 
sought  after,  made  much  over,  beloved.  It  would 
be  enough  to  turn  the  head  of  a  saint.  How  would 
he  stand  it?  Would  the  recollection  of  her  make 
him  strong?  Would  that  God  in  whom  he  and 
she  both  had  trusted  until  this  crisis  came,  lead 
him  in  the  straight  path?  Would  her  purity, 


Abandoned  309 

her  sweetness — stop !  would  he  think  her  thus 
dowered  and  possessed?  Not  now,  certainly,  but 
every  hour  that  took  him  farther  from  her  would 
add  to  his  knowledge  and  would  tell  him  the  truth, 
and  these  would  help  him. 

Another  thought  came  into  her  mind.  His  story 
would  be  known,  and  hers  as  well.  The  world  was 
filled  with  adventurous  men.  Would  not  some  of 
them  come  in  search  of  her  island?  The  officers  of 
those  two  ships  could  determine  accurately  the  situa 
tion  of  that  island.  It  would  be  as  easy  for  a  navi 
gator  to  find  it  as  for  a  denizen  of  a  city  to  go 
to  any  given  street  corner.  People  might  come  back 
to  that  island;  not  to  seek  her,  for  the  world  would 
believe  her  dead,  but  simply  to  see  the  place.  Idle 
yachtsmen  might  find  that  an  object  for  long  cruis 
ing,  and  she  would  have  to  hide  and  hide.  But  would 
she  hide?  Would  she  go  back  to  that  world? 
Never,  she  said,  unless  he  came  to  fetch  her. 

And  then  her  thoughts  turned  again.  Why  had 
he  gone  away?  Had  she  been  he  they  could  as  soon 
have  uprooted  the  island  itself  as  torn  her  from  it 
under  similar  circumstances.  Had  he  been  gone,  she 
would  have  lingered  and  died  on  the  spots  that  were 
sacred  because  there  he  had  walked.  If  she  had 
known  that  at  that  moment  her  Man  lay  fighting 
for  life  and  reason  in  the  cabin  of  the  swift-moving 
ship,  she  would  have  understood  better  his  absence. 
That  he  could  be  so  stricken  never  occurred  to  her. 


310  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

She  had  been  mistaken  in  him  doubly,  mistaken 
when  she  thought  he  would  rise  to  the  test,  and 
again  mistaken  when  she  thought  that,  having 
once  fallen,  he  would  not  rise  again.  She  did  not 
know  that  he  had  come  ashore  in  the  gray  of  the 
dawn  to  seek  her,  to  throw  himself  at  her  feet,  to 
declare  that  all  he  had  thought  of  her  was  as  noth 
ing  to  what  he  thought  of  her  then ;  that  she  was  the 
sweetest,  the  noblest,  the  truest,  the  purest  woman 
upon  earth;  that  he  could  not  live  without  her;  that 
she  must  take  him  back  into  her  heart,  give  him  the 
place  which  so  briefly  he  had  enjoyed,  if  she  did  not 
wish  to  see  him  wither  and  die  under  her  displeasure 
like  an  uprooted  palm,  a  torn-down  tree. 

She  did  not  know  that  when  he  had  called  her 
name  at  the  mouth  of  her  cave  and  had  at  last  en 
tered  and  not  found  her,  how  terrible  the  shock  had 
been  to  him.  She  had  not  seen,  she  had  not  heard, 
she  could  not  know,  how  he  had  been  stricken  down 
when  he  caught  sight  of  the  little  heap  of  clothes 
which  she  had  laid  out  upon  the  beach  to  make  the 
searchers  think  that  she  had  gone. 

And  it  was  well  for  her  that  these  things  were 
hidden  from  her,  for  had  she  believed  him  suffering, 
dying,  and  she  not  there,  the  separation  would  have 
been  more  unendurable  than  it  was.  She  pictured 
him,  not  happy  away  from  her,  overwhelmed  by  her 
death  surely,  saddened  beyond  present  comfort  it 
must  be,  yet  so  occupied  that  insensibly  his  grief 


Abandoned  311 

would  be  lightened  by  the  only  thing  after  all  that 
makes  life  bearable  in  certain  contingencies,  and  that 
is  work.  Work!  She,  too,  had  work  to  do. 

She  rose  to  her  feet  doggedly  as  she  thought 
of  that,  and  considered  what  she  could  do.  She 
climbed  the  hill  again.  It  was  in  part  aimless,  rest 
less  wandering,  but  it  gave  her  occupation.  Her  eyes 
fell  upon  the  ashes  of  the  signal  nre.  She  contem 
plated  it  as  the  spectre  of  some  Hindu  woman  whose 
body  had  been  burned  upon  such  an  affair  might  look 
upon  her  pyre.  It  was  she  who  had  lighted  the 
beacon.  Her  hand  had  called  the  world  to  her  side. 
She  thought  how  he  had  begged  her  not  to  do  it, 
how  he  had  declared  himself  content  and  happy  to 
live  with  her  alone — the  world  forgetting,  by  the 
world  forgot !  For  the  second  time  she  broke  down 
completely.  She  buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  her 
body  reeled  and  shook  with  sobs,  the  tears  trickled 
through  her  fingers.  Was  she  to  be  forever  unequal 
to  the  separation?  she  asked  herself  at  last. 

She  must  make  another  beacon,  she  decided  at 
last;  that  would  give  her  something  to  do.  And 
then  it  came  to  her  that  they  had  taken  away  the  flint 
and  steel.  She  had  no  means  of  lighting  it.  That 
realization  developed  other  thoughts.  Her  Bible 
was  gone;  her  clothes  were  gone;  her  toilet  articles, 
her  scissors,  her  watch,  her  knife.  They  had  taken 
everything.  They  had  left  her  nothing,  absolutely 
nothing.  What  did  it  matter?  She  could  dress 


312  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

herself  with  fern  leaves  and  make  shift  to  bind  them 
about  her  with  cords  that  she  could  plait  of  the 
grass  which  she  could  tear  with  her  sweet  strong 
hands.  And  what  did  it  matter  what  she  wore? 
There  was  no  one  there  to  see.  But  for  the  age 
long  habit  of  modesty,  she  would  have  torn  away 
and  thrown  aside  the  makeshifts  that  fell  from  her 
shoulders. 

She  saw  herself  reduced  to  the  life  of  the  mere 
animal.  She  had  nothing  but  her  hands,  no  tool  or 
implement  of  any  sort.  Who  had  defined  man 
as  a  tool-using  animal,  she  wondered.  She  wished 
that  she  had  buried  or  hidden  some  of  the  things 
before  she  took  that  determination  to  retreat  to  that 
cave  which  she  had  discovered  on  the  day  that  she 
had  discovered  that  he  loved  her  and  that  she  loved 
him.  She  had  stood  there  in  the  water  hesitating 
as  to  whether  to  go  out  or  to  come  back.  She  had 
utterly  forgotten  the  cave  until,  the  tide  being  out,  a 
backward  glance  from  the  low  level  at  which  she 
stood  had  disclosed  the  black  and  narrow  opening. 
And  then  without  a  thought  she  had  decided  on 
her  course.  She  had  gone  back  and  written  in  the 
Bible  with  the  lieutenant-commander's  pencil,  which 
unwittingly  she  had  retained,  and  then  she  had 
plunged  into  the  cave  with  enough  food  to  last  her 
for  the  two  days. 

She  rehearsed  it  all  and  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  she  must  eat  unless  she  would  really  die.  To 


Abandoned  313 

eat,  to  sleep,  to  dream — these  were  all  that  were  left 
her.  She  wondered  if  she  would  lose  the  power  of 
speech.  She  wondered  if  she  would  descend  in  the 
long  years  to  that  low  level  from  which  she  had  up 
lifted  him.  She  felt  that  perhaps  she  would  go 
mad.  She  threw  herself  down  upon  her  knees 
again  and  prayed  once  more,  this  time  that  God 
would  enable  her  to  keep  her  reason,  so  that  if  the 
man  did  come  back  she  would  be  ready  for  him. 

Quieter  after  a  while,  and  a  little  comforted,  she 
rose  and  made  a  circuit  of  the  island.  She  must 
make  sure  that  no  one  really  was  ashore.  She  went 
last  of  all  to  the  cave  that  had  been  his.  She  would 
choose  it  for  her  own  now.  It  was  reminiscent  of 
him.  In  her  thoughts  it  would  be  like  having  him 
near  her.  She  kissed  the  sand  where  he  had  lain 
so  long. 

So  the  dreary  day  dragged  on  until  the  night  fell 
and  sleep  came  to  her  wearied  body  and  soul  with 
its  benediction  of  oblivion. 


CHAPTER   XXII 

UNAVAILING    APPEAL 

SHE  slept  late  the  next  morning.  In  the  first  place, 
being  upon  the  western  side  of  the  island,  there  was 
no  flooding  burst  of  sunlight  through  the  open  door 
to  disturb  her  quiet  slumber.  In  the  second  place, 
she  was  so  worn  out  and  exhausted,  she  had  had  so 
little  sleep  in  the  past  three  days,  that  imperative 
nature  forced  her  into  rest.  She  might  have  slept 
longer  indeed  but  that  she  was  awakened  by  a  great 
cry,  a  human  voice  calling  her  name.  She  opened 
her  eyes  and  saw  within  the  dimness  of  the  cave  a 
human  figure,  vaguely  white  in  the  darkness.  For 
one  fleeting  instant  she  imagined  that  it  might  be  he, 
but  that  hope  was  dispelled  as  quickly  as  it  had  been 
born.  She  recognized  the  voice.  It  was  Lang- 
ford's. 

"  Kate,"  he  said,  approaching  her  more  nearly 
and  bending  over  her,  "are  you  alive,  then?" 

He  reached  down  and  touched  her  hand  where  it 
lay  across  the  fern  leaves  on  her  breast.  His  touch 
summoned  her  bewildered  faculties  to  action. 
Brushing  his  hand  aside,  she  sat  up. 

"  Mr.  Langford,  Valentine ! "  she  exclaimed  in 
a  daze  of  surprise. 

314 


Abandoned  315 

'  You  are  alive  and  well?  " 

'  Yes,"  she  answered. 

"Thank  God!"  cried  the  man.  "We  thought 
you  dead.  We  searched  the  island.  Where  had 
you  hidden?  Why  have  you  done  it?" 

She  rose  slowly  to  her  feet  and  confronted  him. 

"You!"  she  said  bitterly.  "Why  have  you 
come  back?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Langford.  "  I  can't 
tell  what  moved  me.  I  was  here  on  the  island  with 
the  others.  I  searched  with  the  rest.  I  know  that 
no  foot  of  it  was  left  unvisited.  Every  crag  and 
cranny,  every  thicket  and  coppice,  every  tree,  every 
cave  and  rift  in  the  rocks  was  examined  over  and 
over  again.  We  knew  that  you  were  gone,  and 
yet  I  could  not  believe  it.  Yesterday  afternoon  I 
parted  from  the  cruiser.  I  did  not  bear  away  for 
this  island  until  it  was  too  dark  and  they  were  too 
far  away  to  see  what  I  would  be  about,  and  then  I 
came  back  here  at  full  speed." 

"Why  did  you  come?" 

"  I  don't  know.  I  was  not  satisfied.  It  seemed 
to  me  that  I  must  come  back  and  search  again.  I 
could  not  believe  it  possible  that  you  were  dead, 
really  dead.  Something  in  my  heart  at  any  rate 
brought  me  once  more  to  see  the  place  where  you 
had  lived,  if  no  more  than  that.  We  made  the 
island  early  in  the  morning.  The  yacht  lies  yonder. 
I  came  ashore  alone  a  moment  since  and  some  kind 


316  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

Providence  led  me  first  of  all  to  this  spot.  I  en 
tered  the  cave.  I  saw  you  lying  there  in  the  cool 
darkness.  I  thought  you  dead  at  first.  Then  I 
cried  to  you  and  you  moved.  And  then  I  touched 
your  hand.  O  Kate,  thank  God  I  have  found 
you ! " 

"  Where  is  he?"  said  the  woman.  "  Why  didn't 
he  come  back?  " 

It  was  a  cruel  thing  to  say,  but  she  could  not  more 
have  helped  it  than  she  could  have  helped  her 
breathing.  Not  to  have  said  it  would  have  killed 
her,  for  if  Langford's  love  could  turn  him  back, 
what  could  be  said  then  of  Charnock's.  Langford 
was  pale  and  haggard.  He,  too,  had  suffered.  He 
was  paying  for  his  sins.  He  was  expiating  them 
and  feeling  it,  although  the  expiation  was  not  help 
ing  her. 

"What  of  him?"  she  asked  insistently. 

"What  matters  about  him?"  he  said  bitterly. 
"He  had  his  chance.  He  failed  to  grasp  it.  He's 
gone." 

The  man  did  not  tell  her  that  Charnock  had  been 
carried  away  a  senseless  log,  bereft  of  power  to 
think,  or  speak,  or  move,  or  feel  by  the  shock  of  her 
departure. 

"Once,"  said  the  woman,  "you  had  your  chance 
in  the  cabin  of  that  very  yacht  out  yonder,  and  you 
failed  to  grasp  it,  and  we  separated." 

"  Yes,"   said  the  man,   "  I  know  that,   I  realize 


Abandoned  317 

that  now,  and  I  came  back,  I  have  come  back  now 
to  take  my  chance  again." 

"  And  so  he  may  come  back,"  said  the  woman. 
"  You  sank  lower  than  he." 

"  And  I  rose  higher  the  other  day  upon  the 
sand." 

"  You  did,  but  not  high  enough.  I  believe  in 
him.  He  will  realize  it,  too,"  she  went  on,  all  the 
confidence  of  her  hopes  springing  into  life  again 
and  giving  force  and  power  to  her  voice  and  bear 
ing. 

"And  you  condemn  me  for  that  one  mistake?" 
said  the  man. 

"No,"  returned  the  woman,  "neither  will  I  con 
demn  him  for  that  one  mistake." 

"  But  he  is  gone,  I  tell  you." 

"And  he  will  come  back,  I  know." 

"He  thinks  you  dead." 

"  So  did  you." 

"  But  I  came  back,  not  he." 

"  You  were  your  own  master,"  said  the  woman 
swiftly.  "  You  could  go  where  you  pleased.  He 
was  subject  to  the  decision  of  others.  I  trust  him 
still." 

"  And  you  don't  trust  me." 

"  I  trust  you  enough,  but  I  don't  love  you." 

"  O  Kate,  think !  There  must  be  something  in 
what  I  feel  for  you  to  move  you.  I  did  not  know 
what  It  was.  I  did  not  realize  it.  I  came  back  in 


318  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

the  first  place  as  much  because  I  had  been  a  black 
guard  and  a  coward  and  wanted  to  set  myself  right 
in  your  eyes  as  because  I  cared  for  you,  but  every 
hour  of  search  made  me  know  my  own  heart,  and 
since  I  have  seen  you,  since  I  see  you  now,  there  is 
nothing  I  would  not  do  for  you,  nothing  I  would 
not  suffer  for  you.  This  isn't  any  expiation  or 
amendment  or  anything  now,  but  because  I  am  a 
man,  and  love  you,  I  want  you.  I  want  to  make 
you  happy.  And  I  am  the  one  man  in  the  world 
that  ought  to  want  you  and  want  to  make  you 
happy.  It  is  for  that  I  have  come  back  to  you." 

"  How  terrible  are  the  arrangements  of  blind 
fate,"  said  the  woman.  "  I  must  believe  what  you 
say.  You  awaken  my  pity,  my  tenderness,  my  con 
sideration,  but  these  are  all.  He  is  not  by  to  hear, 
and  therefore  I  will  tell  you  unreservedly,  for  you 
deserve  the  truth,  that  just  as  you  say  you  love  me, 
nay,  then,  just  as  you  do  and  more  a  thousand  times, 
I  love  that  man.  It  would  be  a  crime,  a  sin,  a 
bodily  profanation,  a  mental  and  spiritual  degrada 
tion  to  which  the  other  " — he  knew  to  what  she 
alluded  as  she  paused — "  were  nothing,  if  I  should 
come  to  you  with  my  whole  heart  and  soul  given  to 
the  man,"  she  threw  her  hand  out  in  a  great  sweep 
ing  gesture,  "  yonder  out  at  sea." 

"  But  he  doesn't  love  you." 

"  O  yes,  he  does.  Not  as  I  would  be  loved,  I  ad 
mit,  not  as,  please  God,  I  shall  be  loved  by  him, 


Abandoned  319 

but  he  loves  me.  He  doesn't  know;  he  doesn't  un 
derstand.  Wisdom  will  come  to  him  and  he  will 
come  back." 

"  It  might  be  so,"  admitted  the  man  reluctantly. 
"  I  came  back.  But  he  believes  you  dead." 

"  And  did  not  you  when  you  searched  for  me 
during  those  three  years?" 

"  No,"  answered  Langford,  "  I  had  a  confident 
hope  that  somewhere  you  were  alive." 

u  And  will  he  not  have  that  hope,  too?  " 

"  I  cannot  believe  it." 

There  was  a  long,  frightful  pause.  The  woman 
sighed  deeply. 

"  It  may  be  as  you  say.  It  may  be  that  we  are 
separated  forever.  It  may  be  that  I  shall  never 
look  upon  him  again,  or  he  upon  me,  but  that 
makes  no  difference.  I  do  not  love  you.  I  cannot 
love  you.  If  he  is  dead,  I  shall  love  his  memory 
until  I  meet  him,  if  so  be  I  may  be  found  worthy  of 
that,  and  I  will  keep  myself  for  him.  No  other 
man  shall  have  what  belongs  to  him." 

They  had  stepped  nearer  the  entrance  of  the 
cave,  which  was  a  spacious  one,  as  they  spoke.  The 
beauty  of  the  woman  in  that  soft  light  was  so  in 
tense  that  it  cast  over  Langford  a  spell.  He  heard 
the  sound  of  her  voice,  but  did  not  heed  what  she 
said.  Suddenly  he  caught  her  in  his  arms. 

"  Kate,"  he  cried,  "  we  are  alone  here,  and  I  am 
master.  That  is  my  ship  yonder.  I  can  have  you 


320  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

bound  hand  and  foot  and  take  you  aboard  of  her. 
I  will  say  that  you  are  mad,  that  I  am  taking 
you  back  to  the  United  States  to  your  friends. 
You  must  come  back  with  me.  I  can't  let  yoa 
go." 

"Valentine,"  said  the  woman  quietly,  "if  you 
do  not  instantly  release  me,  I  will  kill  you  where 
you  stand.  You  don't  realize  how  strong  I  am. 
See!" 

With  a  quick,  sudden  movement  she  caught  his 
arms  with  her  free  hands  and  literally  tore  them 
apart.  To  her  lithe  and  vigorous  body  she  added 
spirit  and  determination  which  made  her  indeed 
more  than  a  match  for  the  slender,  somewhat 
broken  man  before  her. 

'You  see!"  she  cried.  She  stood  between  him 
and  the  doorway,  one  hand  outstretched,  the  fingers 
open.  "  I  could  kill  you  before  you  left  this  cave. 
You  told  me  that  you  had  sent  your  men  back  to  the 
ship  and  that  you  were  alone  upon  the  island,  and 
I  could  hide  where  I  hid  before  and  they  would  find 
your  dead  body  here  upon  the  sands.  That  would 
be  all." 

"  Kill  me  if  you  wish,"  said  the  man  recklessly. 
"  I  don't  care.  Perhaps  that  would  be  the  better 
way." 

"  No,"  said  the  woman,  "  I  respect  you  too  much 
for  that." 

"Respect  me?" 


Abandoned  321 

,  "  Yes.  You  have  shown  me  what  you  are  by  what 
you  have  done,  all  but  this  mad  action  of  a  moment 
since,  and  I  can  understand  that,  my  friend,  for  I 
too  love,  and  it  seems  to  me  that  I  would  brook  any 
thing,  everything,  for  one  moment  like  that  you  fain 
would  have  enjoyed.  But  we  are  not  children, 
neither  are  we  savages  to  act  like  beasts  of  prey.  I 
forgive  you,  I  trust  you."  She  came  close  to  him 
and  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm.  "  I  respect  you, 
I  admire  you  !  " 

"  Everything,"  said  the  man,  "  but  love  me." 

"  Everything  but  that,"  assented  the  woman 
quietly. 

"  I  shan't  offend  again,"  returned  Langford. 
"  Neither  by  force  nor  persuasion  can  I  effect  any 
thing.  Kate,"  he  said  after  another  pause,  "  come 
back  to  the  United  States  or  to  some  civilized  land. 
The  world  is  before  you.  I  will  land  you  where  you 
please  and  give  you  or  lend  you  money  enough  to 
enable  you  to  go  where  you  like.  You  shall  be  on 
the  yacht  to  me  as  my  sister." 

"  It  can't  be,"  said  the  woman.  "  Don't  you  see 
that  I  can  accept  no  favors  from  you  ?  " 

"  But  no  one  need  ever  know.  I  will  discharge 
the  crew  of  the  yacht  in  some  South  African  port. 
They  will  scatter  .  .  ." 

"  God  would  know  and  I  would  know,  and  when 
I  see  the  Man,  my  Man,  again  I  would  have  to  tell 
him.  It  would  make  it  harder  for  him,  harder  for 


322  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

me.     And  I  don't  want  to  go  back.     I  will  wait 
here  for  him." 

"  Kate,"  said  the  man  impulsively,  "  it  was  un 
generous  of  me  not  to  have  told  you  before.  They 
took  him  away  from  the  island  senseless,  raving 
with  brain  fever.  He  collapsed,  stricken  as  if  dead, 
on  the  sand  by  that  little  heap  of  clothes  and  the 
Bible  which  bore  your  message.  He  thought  you 
dead.  He  left  the  ship  in  the  early  morning  to 
seek  you.  The  shock  was  too  much  for  him." 

"  He  loved  me,  then,"  said  the  woman. 
*  Yes,"   said   Langford,   wringing   the   admission 
from  his  lips,  "he  loved  you  enough  almost  to  die 
for  you." 

"  But  he  is  not  dead.  He  was  not  when  you  left 
the  cruiser?"  she  cried  in  bitter  appeal,  her  hand 
on  her  heart. 

"No,  they  signaled  to  me  at  noontime  in  answer 
to  my  inquiry  that  the  doctor  thought  he  would 
finally  pull  through,  although  it  would  be  a  long, 
terrible  siege;  but  if  he  dies,  Kate,  if  I  go  back  and 
find  that  he  is  dead  and  come  here  .  .  ." 

"  Don't  come  back,"  said  the  woman.  "  Don't 
tell  anyone  that  I  am  here.  Let  no  one  ever  come 
back  unless  the  promptings  of  his  heart  and  the 
leading  of  God  should  bring  him  to  me." 

"Is  this  your   final,   absolute  decision?" 

"  My  final  and  absolute  decision.  Nothing  can 
alter  it,  nothing,  absolutely  nothing." 


Abandoned  323 

"O  Kate!" 

"  Don't,"  said  the  woman.  "  It  is  useless  and 
only  breaks  your  heart  and  wrings  mine.  Now,  you 
must  go.  No  one  has  seen  you  from  the  yacht. 
This  cave  is  sheltered  from  where  she  lies.  No 
one  need  know  that  you  have  found  me.  Indeed, 
I  want  you  to  give  me  your  word  of  honor,  to 
swear  it  by  all  that  you  hold  sacred,  that  you  will 
never  tell  anyone,  much  less  him,  that  you  came  back 
and  found  me  alive." 

"You  set  me  a  hard  task,"  faltered  the  man. 

"  But  I  am  sure,"  continued  the  woman,  "  it  is 
not  too  hard  for  you  to  accomplish.  Come,  you 
have  said  you  wanted  to  make  amends.  That  is 
all  past  now,  forgotten  and  forgiven,  but  if  you 
really  would  make  me  happy,  you  will  promise  what 
I  say." 

"And  what  is  that,  again?" 

"On  your  word  of  honor  as  a  gentleman,  by  all 
that  you  hold  sacred,  you  will  never  mention  to  a 
human  soul  that  you  found  me  here  alive." 

"  On  my  word,  by  all  that  I  do  hold  sacred,  by 
my  love  for  you,  Kate,  I  will  not  speak  unless  in 
some  way  you  give  me  leave." 

"So  help  you  God!"  said  the  woman  sol 
emnly. 

"  So  help  me  God ! "  replied  the  man  with  equal 
gravity. 

"  And  now  you  must  go." 


324  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

"  I  have  one  request  to  make  of  you,  Kate,  be 
fore  I  go,"  said  Langford. 

"  If  I  can  grant  it,  you  may  be  assured  I  will." 

"It  is  very  easy.  Will  you  stay  in  this  cave  for 
two  hours?  " 

"  I  have  no  watch,"  said  the  woman,  "  but  I  will 
guess  at  the  time  as  best  I  can." 

"  Then,"  said  the  man,  "  go  down  to  the  beach. 
The  yacht  will  be  gone." 

"Valentine,"  said  the  woman,  "you  don't  mean 
to  stay  here  on  the  island?" 

"  I  would  stay  gladly,"  returned  the  other,  "  if 
I  thought  that  I  would  be  welcome,  but  I  know  that 
cannot  be." 

"  I  will  wait,"  said  the  woman.     "  Good-by !" 

She  extended  her  hand  to  him.  He  seized  it  in 
his  own  trembling  grasp  and  kissed  it.  He  re 
mained  a  moment  with  his  lips  pressed  to  her  hand, 
and  she  laid  her  other  hand  upon  his  bended  head. 
He  heard  her  lips  murmuring  words  of  prayer.  He 
released  her  hand,  stooped  lower,  laid  something  at 
her  feet,  turned  and  resolutely  marched  out  into 
the  sunlight. 

The  woman  lifted  her  hand,  the  hand  that  he  had 
kissed.  It  was  wet  with  tears.  The  man  had  left 
her  with  a  breaking  heart.  She  sat  down  upon  the 
sand  to  think  her  thoughts  during  her  two  hours' 
wait.  Her  bare  foot  touched  something  metallic. 
She  bent  over  and  picked  it  up.  It  was  his  watch. 


Abandoned  325 

He  had  placed  it  there.  The  simple  kindness,  the 
spontaneous  generosity  of  the  little  action,  moved 
her  as  had  not  all  his  pleas,  and  she  mingled  her 
own  tears  with  his  upon  her  hand. 

It  was  a  long  wait,  and  yet  he  had  given  her 
much  to  occupy  her  mind.  His  visit  had  saddened 
her,  but,  more  than  that,  it  had  gladdened  her. 
There  was  comfort,  and  any  woman  would  have 
taken  it,  in  the  thought  that  Langford  had  come 
back  to  her.  There  was  comfort,  mingled  with  ap 
prehension,  in  the  thought  that  in  the  still  hours  of 
the  morning  her  companion  had  come  ashore,  she 
divined,  to  sue  for  her  forgiveness.  There  was 
more  comfort  in  the  thought  that  he  had  not  left  her 
voluntarily,  but  had  been  taken  away  helpless,  ill. 
There  was  most  comfort  in  the  thought  that  his  be 
lief  that  he  had  lost  her  had  almost  killed  him. 

There  was  dismay  and  sick  apprehension  in  the 
thought  that  he  was  ill  and  she  was  not  there.  And 
yet  despite  herself  a  little  gleam  of  hope  sprang  up 
in  her  heart.  He  could  not  die,  having  been  so 
preserved  for,  lo,  these  many  years.  Some  fate  had 
been  marked  out  for  him,  some  Providence  would 
watch  over  him,  and  some  day  he  would  come  back 
over  the  sea — her  Man! 

She  had  guarded  against  any  outside  influence. 
She  had  Langford's  word,  his  solemn  oath,  that 
under  no  circumstances  would  he  tell  anyone  that 
she  was  alive,  least  of  all  the  man  of  all  others  she 


326  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

would  fain  have  know  it.  But  he  would  come  back. 
He  could  not  live  without  once  more  visiting  the 
island,  and  when  he  came  back,  he  would  find  her 
waiting  for  him. 

She  looked  at  the  watch  after  a  while  and  found 
that  more  than  two  hours  had  elapsed,  nearly  three. 
The  latter  part  of  the  time  had  fled  swiftly  in 
thoughts  of  him.  She  was  hungry  and  thirsty,  too. 
It  was  noon.  She  went  out  on  the  sands.  The 
yacht  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  She  could  not  yet 
have  got  below  the  horizon.  She  divined  that  he 
had  sailed  around  the  island  and  away  in  that  di 
rection. 

There  was  a  pile  of  boxes  and  things  on  the  sand 
above  the  high  water  mark.  She  stepped  toward 
it  and  opened  one  of  the  sea  chests.  It  was  filled 
with  books  and  papers,  a  strange  collection.  He 
had  ransacked  the  yacht  for  her.  Another  chest 
contained  provisions  with  which  she  had  long  been 
unfamiliar.  There  were  toilet  articles,  pieces  of 
cloth,  writing  paper,  pencils,  a  heaping  profusion 
of  all  that  he  fancied  she  might  need,  that  might 
afford  solace  and  companionship  to  her  and  alleviate 
the  loneliness  of  those  hours.  In  her  heart  she 
thanked  him,  and  lifting  up  her  hands,  she  blessed 
him  again.  He  had  made  life  possible  and  toler 
able  to  her.  She  could  write,  she  could  read,  she 
could  sew.  And  all  this  while  she  could  hope  and 
dream. 


BOOK   VI 
THE    NEW    LIFE 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

A    GREAT    PURPOSE 

LATE  springtime  in  old  Virginia.  The  climate  was 
not  unlike  that  of  the  island  during  the  cooler  por 
tions  of  the  year,  thought  the  man  standing  on 
the  porch  of  the  high-pillared  old  brick  house  set 
upon  a  hill  overlooking  the  pale-green  waters  o£ 
Hampton  Roads  which  stretched  far  eastward  past 
Newport  News  and  Old  Point  Comfort  to  the  blue 
of  the  Chesapeake,  and  far  beyond  that  to  the  deeper 
blue  of  the  ocean.  Back  of  him  a  thousand  leagues 
of  land,  and  more  than  a  thousand  leagues  of  sea, 
intervened  between  him  and  the  object  of  his 
thoughts.  Not  for  a  day,  not  for  an  hour,  scarcely 
for  a  moment  even,  was  that  island  out  of  his  mind. 
There  was  pleasure  and  pain  in  the  recollection  of  it. 
Upon  the  man's  face  a  stern  melancholy  had  set 
tled.  Not  the  melancholy  of  ineptitude  and  indif 
ference,  not  the  melancholy  that  made  him  do  noth 
ing  unmindful  of  the  large  issues  of  life  in  which 
he  had  been  suddenly  plunged,  not  the  melancholy 
that  paralyzed  his  activities,  but  the  melancholy 
that  comes  from  the  presence  in  the  heart  of  an 
abiding  sorrow  that  neither  time  nor  change  nor 
occupation  could  uproot;  a  melancholy  that  came 

329 


330  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

from  the  sense  of  bereavement  ever  growing  more 
keen  and  more  poignant  as  the  period  of  bereave 
ment  lengthened,  and  which  sprang  from  a  con 
sciousness  of  imperfections  and  failures  for  which 
no  after  achievement  could  atone. 

In  some  circumstances  there  is  comfort  in  a  death- 
Jess  memory,  in  the  recollection  of  a  presence  that 
has  passed.  There  is  solace  in  the  dream  touch  of 
the  vanished  hand,  in  the  heart  echo  of  the  voice 
that  is  stilled,  if  when  the  hand  was  warm  and  the 
voice  thrilled  in  the  hollow  of  the  ear,  nothing  was 
done  which  could  impair  the  sweetness  and  the 
purity  of  the  remembrance  afterward.  But  this 
man  had  slain  the  thing  he  loved.  Guilt,  as  of  a 
murderer,  was  upon  his  soul.  He  could  not  throw 
it  off. 

Had  he  been  less  a  man,  he  would  have  sought 
oblivion  by  following  the  path  to  death  upon  which 
he  fancied  she  had  shown  the  way.  When  he  came 
to  his  senses  in  the  cabin  of  the  ship,  weak,  worn, 
wasted  as  one  who  had  gone  through  the  very  val 
ley  and  shadow  of  death  itself,  and  they  had  told 
him,  in  answer  to  his  eager  questions,  the  truth 
which  he  had  divined  ere  he  had  been  stricken  down, 
his  first  conscious  resolution  was  to  live  worthy  of 
her  remembrance.  He  had  failed  awfully  once, 
and  before  he  could  make  amends  she  had  vanished, 
but  somewhere  beyond  the  stars  he  believed  she 
knew  his  present  purpose.  Unless  men's  hopes  for 


The  New  Life  331 

the  future  were  all  a  dream,  unless  their  desires  and 
aspirations  were  like  the  baseless  fabric  of  every 
other  vision,  he  knew  that  she  would  know.  He 
would  show  to  her  and  for  her  memory's  sake  that 
he  could  be  a  man.  To  die  would  have  been  far 
better  for  him,  but  he  would  live  on,  live  on  for  her. 
He  would  do  things  in  the  world,  and  couple  her 
name  with  them.  Men  should  know  what  she  had 
been  through  him,  he  would  cause  her  to  be  remem 
bered,  and  some  day,  when  he  had  worked  out  his 
punishment,  howsoever  long  it  should  please  God  to 
require  it  of  him,  he  would  be  worthy  of  her  in 
that  high  place  to  which  she  had  gone. 

It  was  that,  and  that  alone,  which  enabled  him 
to  endure  the  consciousness  that  he  had  killed  her, 
the  good  being  he  loved,  the  sweet  being  he  adored, 
the  pure  being  whom  he  would  fain  have  cherished 
— too  late!  He  lashed  himself  with  that  thought 
as  the  devotees  of  old  scourged  their  bodies  until 
the  blood  ran,  in  some  futile  effort  thus  to  purify 
their  souls.  As  it  were  he  wore  next  to  his  skin  the 
hair  shirt  of  the  ancient  martyr,  allowing  it  to  chafe 
his  very  vitals.  And  yet  he  lived  to  accomplish  his 
purpose. 

It  had  not  been  difficult  to  establish  his  rights. 
Whittaker  and  the  chaplain,  armed  with  the  deposi 
tions,  had  taken  the  man  across  the  continent  when 
the  ship  had  been  put  out  of  commission  at  San 
Francisco,  and  presented  him  to  his  uncle,  the  Char- 


332  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

nock  in  residence  in  that  great  house  on  the  Nanse- 
mond  shore  overlooking  that  estuary  of  the  James 
by  Hampton  Roads.  The  old  man,  childless  and 
alone,  had  welcomed  him  gladly.  The  newcomer 
was  of  the  Charnock  blood.  It  was  a  strange  mo 
ment  for  the  islander  when  they  took  him  into  the 
great  drawing-room  and  showed  him  the  pictures 
of  his  father  and  of  his  mother.  He  was  the  liv 
ing  image  of  the  man,  tempered  with  some  of  the 
woman's  sweetness.  This  remarkable  likeness — in 
deed  he  was  not  unlike  his  uncle  as  well — coupled 
with  the  material  proofs,  the  ring,  the  Bible,  the 
evidence  of  the  ship,  together  with  what  was  known, 
removed  every  lingering  doubt  from  the  minds  of 
those  most  concerned. 

The  family  was  reduced  to  those  two,  the  uncle 
and  the  nephew.  Ttie  old  man  formally  and  le 
gally  recognized  the  relationship  and  offered  to 
transfer  the  property  rightfully  his,  which  since  the 
discovery  of  coal  had  increased  enormously  in  value, 
to  the  newcomer,  but  Charnock  would  have  none 
of  it  then.  He  recognized  his  unfitness  to  deal  with 
such  things.  If  the  older  man  would  retain  it, 
he  could  give  it  to  him  at  his  death.  Meanwhile 
he  could  teach  and  train  him  how  to  use  it.  Bereft 
of  his  one  guide,  his  one  inspiration  in  life,  he  would 
need  wise  counsel  and  careful  leading  indeed. 

In  addition  to  the  formal  recognition,  the  older 
man  legally  adopted  the  younger  and  constituted 


The  New  Life  333 

him  the  heir  to  his  own  property,  which  was  almost 
as  extensive  and  as  valuable  as  that  which  rightly 
belonged  to  the  nephew.  And  then,  these  formal 
ities  being  completed,  the  lieutenant-commander  and 
the  chaplain,  summoned  elsewhere  by  their  duties, 
bade  the  two  farewell  and  left  them. 

Charnock  could  not  have  fallen  into  better  hands. 
Education  was  his  first  requirement,  and  he  ap 
plied  himself  to  it  with  a  fierce  energy  and  a  grim 
determination  which  presently,  from  the  splendid 
foundation  which  had  been  laid  by  the  woman,  en 
abled  him  to  progress  sufficiently  to  take  his  place 
and  hold  his  own  with  men  and  women.  It  was 
impossible  to  keep  secret  forever  the  details  of  such 
a  story  as  his,  especially  when  it  was  linked  with  a 
name  once  so  famous  and  still  remembered  as  that 
of  Katharine  Brenton,  and  it  had  been  decided  by 
Captain  Ashby  and  Whittaker  and  the  man  himself 
that  such  portions  of  it  as  would  suffice  to  explain 
his  own  presence  and  her  fate  should  be  given  to  the 
world.  Upon  the  foundation  thus  afforded,  romance 
builded.  Charnock  immediately  became  a  marked 
man.  He  would  have  been  a  marked  man  in  any 
event  from  the  financial  power  that  he  possessed. 
His  uncle's  management  had  been  wise  and  prudent, 
he  had  spent  little  and  had  saved  much,  so  that 
Charnock  found  himself  the  possessor  of  vast  riches 
in  the  form  of  available  capital. 

Among  the  first  things  that  he  learned  was  the 


334  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

power  of  money.  Had  he  not  been  steadied  by  the 
memory  of  the  woman,  he  would  probably  have 
learned  it  to  his  sorrow.  As  it  was,  he  was  almost 
miserly.  He  spent  little  upon  himself.  His  wants 
were  astonishingly  few,  and  contact  with  the  world 
did  not  develop  extravagant  ideas.  Those  were 
things  which  he  was  too  old  to  learn,  against  which 
he  had  been  anchored.  He  was  saving  what  he  had 
and  what  he  could  get  for  some  great  purpose,  a 
purpose  of  help,  of  assistance  in  which  he  could  com 
memorate  her  name,  for  which  future  generations 
should  rise  up  and  call  her  blessed. 

He  had  long  talks  with  his  uncle  about  it.  The 
old  man  would  fain  have  had  his  nephew  marry  and 
carry  on  the  ancient  line.  Delicately,  tenderly,  he 
broached  the  subject  after  a  time,  but  the  suggestion 
met  with  absolute  refusal.  Women  interested  Char- 
nock  as  men  did.  Indeed,  his  interest  in  his  kind 
was  intense.  The  intellectual  stimulus  of  conversa 
tions  with  bright,  intelligent  people  was  the  most 
entrancing  result  of  his  contact  with  the  world.  But 
none  of  them  touched  his  heart.  That  was  buried1 
on  that  gemlike  island  in  the  far-off  sea. 

He  was  a  man  of  unusual  force  of  character, 
prompt  and  unyielding  decision.  His  uncle  had  not 
lived  his  long  life  without  being  able  to  estimate 
men.  He  recognized  very  early  in  the  undertaking 
the  futility  of  argument,  and  though  he  tried  finesse 
in  the  presence  of  the  wittiest,  the  cleverest,  and 


The  New  Life  335 

most  beautiful  women  of  Virginia  and  elsewhere, 
for  the  two  traveled  throughout  the  United  States, 
welcomed  everywhere,  his  efforts  were  all  unavail 
ing.  There  was  more  than  one  woman  who  would 
gladly  have  accepted  the  man's  suit;  whom,  if  he 
had  wooed  her  ever  so  slightly,  he  could  have  won, 
but  he  was  friendly  with  everyone  and  in  love  with 
none. 

At  the  end  of  two  years  society  gave  him  up  as 
confirmed  in  his  isolation  and  loneliness.  He  was 
not  the  less  welcome,  but  he  was  no  longer  a  matri 
monial  possibility,  nor  was  he  any  more  the  wonder 
that  he  had  been.  New  things  engrossed  public 
attention.  The  world  presently  took  Charnock  as 
he  would  fain  have  it  take  him,  as  a  matter  of 
course. 

He  did  things  slowly,  not  because  that  was  his 
nature,  but  from  an  invincible  determination  to  do 
things  right.  He  made  his  plans  deliberately,  and 
had  formulated  an  enterprise  so  comprehensive  in 
its  scope,  so  vast  in  its  outlay,  and  with  such  infinite 
possibilities  of  help  to  the  poor,  the  wretched,  the 
down-trodden  classes  of  society,  that,  when  the  fore- 
shadowings  of  it  were  announced,  people  stood 
amazed.  An  undertaking  so  great  was  not  within 
the  power  even  of  Charnock.  His  resources  were 
utterly  unequal  to  it,  but  he  had  enough  to  make  a 
magnificent  beginning,  and  by  devoting  to  it  the 
whole  revenue  of  his  estate,  and  the  estate  itself 


336  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

after  he  died,  gradually  the  enterprise  would  be 
achieved. 

There  was  no  necessity  for  secrecy  about  it.  In 
deed,  with  that  simplicity  and  candor  so  unusual  and 
so  unconventional,  which  touch  with  the  world  had 
never  been  able  to  alter,  he  had  spoken  of  his  plans 
without  reserve,  and  he  had  declared  with  equal 
frankness  that  what  he  was  doing  was  in  memory  of 
the  noblest  and  the  truest  of  women  to  whom  he 
owed  it  that  he  was  a  human  being  and  not  an 
animal. 

Whittaker,  of  whose  judgment  he  thought  highly 
acid  with  desert,  was  called  from  the  naval  service 
to  be  executive  head  of  the  great  undertaking.  The 
spiritual  work  was  to  be  placed  in  the  hands  of  the 
chaplain  who  had  so  endeared  himself  to  the  pro 
moter  and  deviser  of  it  all.  Charnock  realized  that 
these  men  who  had  known  Katharine  Brenton  would 
enter  more  sympathetically  into  his  views  and  could 
be  depended  upon  to  carry  them  out  in  case  anything 
happened  to  him.  He  and  his  uncle  and  one  or 
two  others  of  excellent  judgment  whom  he  had  met, 
were  associated  with  the  two  mentioned  to  carry  out 
all  the  founder's  plans. 

Now,  this  thing  was  not  done  in  a  corner.  The 
news  of  it  was  carried  over  the  United  States  and 
spread  even  to  foreign  lands.  The  world  read  it 
and  marveled  again.  A  newspaper  carrying  an  ac 
count  of  it  fell  under  the  eye  of  a  lonely  man  in 


The  New  Life  337 

San  Francisco  who  had  just  returned  from  a  long 
voyage  in  northern  seas.  The  name  "Charnock" 
caught  his  eye  first,  and  then  Langford  saw  the  name 
of  the  woman  he  loved.  He  read  with  avidity,  ap 
preciating  as  none  could  better  do  than  he  from  his 
trained  business  acumen  the  scope  and  yet  the  feasi 
bility  of  the  undertaking.  He  had  wondered  cynic 
ally  what  would  be  the  career  of  the  man  in  the 
United  States.  He  knew  the  value,  as  did  every 
business  man,  especially  every  man  with  large  trans 
portation  interests  like  his,  of  the  Charnock  estate. 
He  would  have  wagered  that  Charnock  would  lose 
his  head  as  ninety-nine  men  out  of  a  hundred  would 
have  done,  and  that,  intoxicated  by  the  sudden  touch 
of  the  material  world  which  was  at  his  feet,  he 
would  have  gone  the  usual  pace;  and  he  would  have 
won  his  wager  had  it  not  been  for  the  immortal  mem 
ory  of  the  woman  they  both  loved,  he  felt  bitterly 
enough.  He  had  not  followed  Charnock's  career. 
Committing  his  own  large  business  interests  to 
those  upon  whose  judgment  and  integrity  he  could 
rely,  he  had  gone  restlessly  about  the  world  in  the 
Southern  Cross,  seeking  by  change  to  drown  his  own 
sorrow,  which  was  as  deep  as,  even  deeper  than, 
Charnock's,  because  he  knew  that  the  woman  he 
loved  lived.  He  had  to  face  the  possibility  that  at 
any  time  others  might  discover  that  fact,  and  that 
Charnock  among  the  rest  would  learn  it,  and  then 
.  .  .  It  was  that  thought  that  drove  him  on,  it 


338  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

was  that  thought  that  broke  him  down.  He  was 
a  sick  man,  almost  a  dying  man,  as  he  steamed 
through  the  Golden  Gate  and  landed  from  the  yacht 
that  spring  morning.  He  did  not  care,  he  had 
nothing  for  which  to  live.  His  love  for  the  woman 
had  grown  and  grown  until  it  had  possessed  him 
and  transformed  him.  His  expiation  was  indeed 
a  fearful  one,  for  there  was  no  end  to  it  but  his 
death,  and  he  felt  that  would  be  welcome. 

He  had  to  set  his  affairs  in  order,  or  he  would 
have  stayed  at  sea  and  let  his  life  go  out  there,  di 
recting  that  his  body  should  be  sunk  in  the  great 
waters  which  washed  the  distant  shores  where  her 
foot  trod.  Indeed,  when  he  was  on  the  Pacific  he 
seemed  somehow  to  be  in  touch  with  her.  A  hun 
dred  times  the  order  to  steer  southward  to  that 
gemlike  island  had  trembled  upon  his  lips,  but  he 
had  held  it  back.  He  knew  what  that  woman  was; 
that  her  "  Yea,  yea  "  and  her  "  Nay,  nay  "  could  not 
be  changed  by  any  power  that  he  could  wield,  and 
so  he  had  stayed  away.  And  now  he  came  back  to 
San  Francisco,  a  sick  man  and  about  to  die. 

He  sat  alone  in  his  office  in  the  great  building  and 
pondered  over  the  account  in  the  paper.  He  had 
been  mistaken  in  the  man.  He  was  really  worth 
while.  He  had  amounted  to  something.  He  was 
worthy  of  the  woman.  If  he  had  not  sworn  an 
oath,  given  his  word.  .  .  .  He  hesitated,  smil 
ing  bitterly.  The  woman  alone  could  release  him. 


The  New  Life  339 

Should  he  sail  down  to  the  island  with  that  paper 
and  tell  that  story.  He  knew  that  he  could  not  do 
it.  He  had  not  the  strength.  There  was  not  time. 
He  had  v/aited  too  long.  The  army  surgeons  in 
Alaska  had  told  him  the  brutal  truth;  that  he  had 
but  a  few  months  to  live,  and  that  if  he  had  any 
thing  to  do  before  he  went  out  into  the  beyond,  he 
would  better  do  it  quickly.  No,  he  could  not  go 
down  there  and  tell  her  and  get  released  from  his 
promise. 

Yet  how  Charnock  would  revel  in  such  news  aa 
he,  and  he  alone,  could  give  him !  He  loved  the 
woman  and  he  hated  the  man.  He  could  not  bear 
to  think  that  the  man  should  have  what  was  denied 
him.  He  could  not  bear  to  think  of  the  woman  he 
loved  in  another's  arms.  And  yet  he  loved  the 
woman.  As  he  pictured  Charnock  happy,  so  he 
pictured  Kate  sad,  fretting  out  her  life  on  that  is 
land  as  he  had  fretted  out  his  on  the  ship.  And  he 
could  make  her  happy  by  a  word  if  he  broke  his 
oath  and  was  false  to  the  promise  he  had  given  her. 
Should  he  do  it  for  her  sake?  Would  she  forgive 
him?  He  would  be  past  forgiveness  when  she 
knew. 

Which  was  the  stronger,  his  love  for  the  woman 
or  his  hatred  for  the  man?  If  he  spoke  at  all,  it 
would  be  for  her  sake,  naught  else.  Would  the 
man  understand  that,  would  she?  Whatever  hap 
pened,  he  had  possessed  her;  she  had  been  his  for 


34°  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

brief  hours.  Did  he  have  the  strength  now  to  give 
her  to  someone  else,  even  though  he  were  dead? 
Being  dead,  would  he  know? 

The  struggle  racked  and  tore  him  in  his  heart. 
He  could  come  to  no  decision,  at  least  not  then. 
What  he  would  do  later  would  depend  upon  cir 
cumstances.  One  thing  he  could  do,  and  that  was 
to  go  and  find  the  man.  Attending  to  such  matters 
as  were  most  pressing  and  taking  the  precaution  to 
make  his  will,  a  strange  will,  at  which  his  attorney 
ventured  to  remonstrate  unavailingly,  at  last  he 
started  on  that  journey  across  the  continent  in  his 
private  car.  He  had  left  the  car  at  Suffolk,  Vir 
ginia,  and  with  a  motor  which  had  been  transported 
with  him  he  ran  up  the  west  side  of  the  inlet  until 
he  came  to  the  manor  house  which  a  local  guide, 
picked  up  by  the  way,  pointed  out  to  him. 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

A     PROMISE    BROKEN 

IT  was  that  same  late  spring  morning  when  John 
Charnock  sat  on  the  porch  overlooking  the  pale 
waters  of  Hampton  Roads  past  Newport  News  and 
Old  Point  Comfort  and  the  blue  waters  of  the  Ches 
apeake  and  the  bluer  ocean  beyond.  The  motor  car 
was  stopped  outside  the  great  gate  at  the  end  of 
the  long  avenue  of  trees  which  led  to  the  river  road. 
It  could  have  been  driven  in,  but  as  he  approached 
the  house  more  nearly,  with  his  mind  still  in  a  state 
of  indecision,  in  order  further  to  collect  his  thoughts 
and  because  he  was  tired  from  the  long  ride  and  be 
cause  he  would  not  trespass  on  Charnock  more  than 
was  absolutely  necessary,  Langford  decided  to  walk. 
Now  the  sight  of  a  passing  automobile  was  not 
unusual,  and  Charnock  glanced  at  it  indifferently 
enough  until  it  stopped  at  the  gate.  That  was  out  of 
the  common,  for  most  of  those  who  came  to  visit  him 
in  such  fashion  turned  in  the  drive  and  stopped 
before  the  long  flight  of  steps  that  led  down 
from  the  porch  to  the  terrace  and  from  the  terrace 
to  the  lower  level  of  the  lawn.  He  did  not  recog 
nize  the  tall,  slender  figure  which  came  slowly  up  the 
path  by  the  side  of  the  drive  under  the  great  arch  of 
trees.  Still,  as  the  man  drew  nearer,  he  arose  and 

341 


342  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

with  true  Virginian  hospitality,  a  hospitality  he  had 
easily  learned  since  it  was  in  his  blood,  he  descended 
the  steps  to  the  terrace  and  would  have  descended 
farther  to  the  roadway  but  that  he  suddenly  recog 
nized  the  visitor.  He  stopped  dead  still,  surprised, 
amazed.  Langford  started,  hesitated,  threw  back 
his  head  and  came  resolutely  on.  He  mounted  the 
first  flight  of  steps  and,  as  he  did  so,  Charnock 
turned,  drew  back  a  little  to  make  way  for  him,  and 
the  two  men  faced  each  other  upon  the  terrace. 

"Great  God!  "  cried  the  Virginian  at  last,  "you 
of  all  men.  What  are  you  doing  here?" 

His  brow  was  dark,  his  hands  were  clenched. 

"Why  not  I?"  answered  Langford  coolly,  a  bit 
ter  smile  on  his  lips. 

"  You  say  that  to  me  after  all  that  you  have 
done?" 

"  Man,"  said  the  other,  "  didn't  I  do  everything 
under  heaven  that  man  could  do  to  undo  it.  She 
forgave  me.  Can't  you?" 

"  No ! "  answered  Charnock,  moving  toward  him. 

"  Stop  !  "  cried  Langford.  "  Is  your  own  record 
so  clear?  Have  you  nothing  with  which  to  re 
proach  yourself?  I  ruined  her  life;  yes,  I  grant  it; 
but  you  drove  her  to  suicide.  Why  have  I  not  the 
right  to  fault  you  even  as  you  seem  to  claim  the 
right  to  fault  me?  We  have  both  sinned  against 
that  woman,  but  at  least  in  those  final  hours  I  did 
my  best  for  her.  Did  you?" 


The  New  Life  343 

Charnock  hesitated.  No  one  had  ever  spoken  to 
him  like  that.  He  had  said  these  things  to  himself 
many  times,  but  no  one  else  had  ever  assumed  or 
presumed  to  do  so,  and  had  anyone  but  this  man 
ventured  upon  such  words,  he  would  have  met  with 
short  shift  indeed.  But  there  was  so  much  justice 
and  so  much  truth  in  what  Langford  said  that,  re 
sentful  though  he  was,  hating  the  man  as  he  did, 
he  could  not  be  blind  to  it. 

"You  are  right,"  he  admitted  at  last,  but  with 
great  reluctance.  "  There  is  more  guilt  on  my  soul 
than  yours,  but  no  other  man  under  heaven  should 
have  told  me  so." 

"  Nor  should  I  have  told  it  to  any  other  man," 
returned  Langford. 

"  But  that  doesn't  explain  why  you  come  here." 

"Why!"  exclaimed  the  other.  "I  don't  really 
know." 

In  that  instant  the  tension  under  which  he  held 
himself  gave  way.  He  reeled  slightly,  put  his  hand 
to  his  heart.  For  the  first  time  Charnock  noticed 
how  white  he  was,  how  sick  and  wretched  he  looked. 
Although  he  could  not  bear  to  touch  the  man,  there 
was  unconscious  appeal  in  his  weakness  which  the 
stronger  man  could  not  resist.  He  sprang  instantly 
to  his  side.  He  caught  him  by  the  arm. 

"What's  the  matter?"  he  asked  almost  roughly. 
11  You  look  ill,  weak,  suffering." 

"  It  is  nothing,"  answered  Langford,  struggling 


344  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

manfully  to  control  himself  and  to  fight  back  the 
ever  tightening  pain  about  his  heart.  "  My  time's 
about  up.  If  I  could  sit  down  somewhere  .  .  I  " 

"  Here,"  cried  Charnock. 

He  half  led,  half  carried  the  man,  supporting  him 
wth  his  powerful  arms  to  a  seat  on  the  terrace, 
across  which  the  shadow  of  the  house  fell  in  the 
morning. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Langford.  "  Now,"  he 
fumbled  in  his  pocket  and  pulled  out  a  little  phial 
with  shaking  fingers,  "if  you  will  be  kind  enough 
to  open  that  and  give  me  one  of  these,"  he  gasped, 
"  I  am  hardly  up  to  it." 

Quickly,  deftly,  Charnock  took  the  phial,  opened 
it,  placed  one  of  the  tablets  in  the  other's  hand  and 
waited  anxiously.  Above  on  the  porch  a  servant 
appeared  and  him  Charnock  bade  bring  water,  wine, 
restoratives.  Presently  Langford  recovered  him 
self,  the  powerful  medicine  acted,  the  tearing  pain 
at  his  heart  abated.  It  left  him  fearfully  weak 
and  broken,  but  his  own  master. 

"Well,"   he   said  with   cynical   bitterness,  "you 


see." 


"  Yes,"  answered  Charnock  gravely,  "  I  see." 
"  I   am   going  in   one   of   those   some   day,   and 
mighty  soon  now,  and  it  is  because  of  that  that  I 
came  to  see  you.     I  wanted  to  talk  to  you  about 
her." 

"  No  man  speaks  to  me  about  her." 


The  New  Life  345 

"  But  you  can't  refuse  the  dying,  you  know.  You 
can't  go  away  and  leave  me  here.  You  can't  stop 
me  by  force.  '  When  I  am  weak,  I  am  strong,'  "  he 
quoted  almost  sardonically. 

"  I  shall  not  leave  you,"  said  Charnock.  "  You 
are  paying  for  what  you  did.  My  God,  I  could 
envy  you  your  going.  Do  you  think  life  is  sweet 
and  pleasant  to  me  with  the  memory  of  what  I  did 
rankling?  " 

"  No,  I  suppose  not,"  said  Langford,  "  but  I 
didn't  really  come  so  much  to  talk  about  her  as  to 
talk  about  you." 

"  I  can't  conceive  that  I  am  a  proper  subject  for 
your  conversation." 

He  said  it  firmly  but  not  unkindly.  Langford 
was  too  pitiable  a  spectacle  for  that. 

"  It's  about  your  project,"  went  on  the  other. 
"Will  you  tell  me  about  it?" 

"  Haven't  you  read  the  papers?  " 

"Yes,  but  I  want  to  hear  from  your  own  lips 
what  you  propose  to  do.  I  am  a  business  man  ac 
customed  to  large  affairs.  I  want  to  hear  with  my 
own  ears  all  about  it." 

Charnock  hesitated.  After  all,  why  not  ?  Stand 
ing  before  the  other,  he  outlined  all  his  plans. 
Rapidly,  dramatically,  concisely,  he  builded  before 
the  other's  eyes  the  castle  of  his  dreams. 

"  It  is  to  be  for  her,  a  memorial  to  her,  you  see, 
so  that  her  name  shall  be  remembered  and  prayers 


346  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

and  blessings  called  down  upon  her  head  by  genera 
tions  yet  unborn." 

"  It  is  a  practicable  scheme,"  said  Langford, 
"  and  a  great  one.  Who  has  it  in  charge?" 

"  Men  you  know,"  answered  Charnock,  rapidly 
naming  them. 

"They  can  make  it  go  if  anybody  can.  I  con 
gratulate  you  upon  it.  It  is  a  great  idea.  As 
usual,"  he  laughed  bitterly,  "  you  have  got  ahead  of 
me.  While  you  have  been  working  and  living  these 
two  years,  I  have  been  idling  and  dying.  But  I  can 
make  some  amends  at  least.  You  will  see  presently. 
Now,  I  must  go." 

He  rose  unsteadily  to  his  feet. 

"Wait!"  said  Charnock.  "I  never  thought  to 
do  this.  I  never  thought  to  speak  to  you  again. 
But  you  can't  go  now.  You  are  in  no  state  to  travel, 
even  in  an  automobile.  You  must  come  to  the 
house  until  you  recover  yourself,  get  a  rest  over 
night,  let  me  send  for  a  physician.  I  don't  mean 
that  there  can  be  friendship  between  us.  There  is 
too  much  in  the  past  that  keeps  us  apart.  I  have 
never  before  been  glad  that  I  didn't  break  you  when 
I  held  you  in  my  arms  upon  the  sand.  But  I  don't 
know,  if  she  forgave  you,  I  can  do  it.  May  be  by 
that  I  can  earn  some  forgiveness  myself.  We  were 
both  fools,  and  you  were  knave,  but  you  were  man 
at  last.  I  wasn't.  Stay  here.  I  won't  disturb 
you." 


The  New  Life  347 

"By  heavens!"  said  Langford,  flushing,  "you 
are  man  now.  No,  I  won't  stay,  but  I  thank  you 
for  your  offer,  and  I  will  pay  you  for  it." 

Charnock  put  up  his  hand. 

"  I  want  no  pay." 

"  Nevertheless,  you  shall  have  it,"  insisted  the 
other.  "  I  will  give  you  a  word  of  advice  although 
to  do  it  damns  me ! " 

He  paused,  laid  his  hand  upon  his  heart  again, 
clenched  the  clothing  about  his  breast  as  if  he  would 
fain  tear  it  off.  He  was  white  once  more,  the  sud 
den  flush  had  gone,  but  his  lips  were  set  deter 
minedly. 

"  Listen  well  to  what  I  tell  you,"  he  said  slowly. 
"  I  break  my  word  to  do  it.  I  am  false  to  my  oath 
in  what  I  say.  Nevertheless  I  say  it.  Go  back  to 
the  island!" 

"What?"  cried  Charnock. 

"Didn't  you  hear  me?"  asked  the  man,  intense 
bitterness  in  his  voice.  Now  that  he  had  made  the 
plunge,  he  realized  more  keenly  than  ever  what  it 
meant  to  him  even  in  the  very  articles  of  death  to 
think  of  Charnock  and  the  woman.  "  Do  I  have 
to  say  it  again?"  he  went  on.  "Go  back  to  the 
island." 

His  voice  rose  until  he  almost  cried  the  five  words 
In  Charnock's  face.  The  Virgianian  stood  abso 
lutely  appalled.  Langford  looked  at  him  a  mo 
ment,  laughed  bitterly,  turned,  and  went  slowly 


348  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

down  the  steps.  More  than  ever  he  hated  him. 
In  one  bound  Charnock  was  by  his  side. 

"  You  have  said  too  much  or  too  little,"  he  cried, 
laying  his  hand  upon  the  other.  "What  do  you 
mean?  Why  should  I  go  back  to  the  island?  Is 
she  there?  " 

In  his  agitation,  he  even  shook  the  frailer, 
slighter,  feebler  form  of  the  man  who  had  just  ut 
tered  those  words. 

"Unless,"  said  Langford  coolly,  "you  want  me 
to  die  on  your  threshold,  you  would  better  take  off 
your  hand.  The  doctors  told  me  that  the  least 
physical  violence  or  exertion  would  be  fatal  to  me." 

Releasing  him,   Charnock  spoke  again. 

"But  won't  you  tell  me  what  you  mean?  Great 
God,  man,  think  what  your  words  convey!  " 

"  I  will  tell  you  nothing,  nothing  further.  This 
is  my  last  will  and  testament  to  you.  Though  I  die 
here,  I  have  nothing  further  to  say  to  you  than  this : 
Go  back  to  the  island.  .  .  .  Damn  you !  " 

He  turned  away  again  and  went  down  the  steps, 
leaving  Charnock  standing  staring  after  him.  He 
reeled  slightly  as  he  went,  but  he  caught  himself 
and  marched  on  with  as  great  a  resolution  as  ever 
any  soldier  manifested  in  the  point  of  danger.  He 
had  displayed  weakness  once  in  the  presence  of  his 
enemy.  He  would  not  do  it  again.  And  while 
Charnock  stared  at  him,  he  stepped  out  through  the 
gate  from  under  the  trees,  entered  the  big  car  and 
was  whirled  away. 

Left  to   himself,    Charnock  sat   down   upon  the 


The  New  Life  349 

bench  and  pressed  his  head  in  his  hands,  his 
thoughts  in  a  wild  whirl.  Go  back  to  the  island? 
Why  had  he  said  that?  Who  was  there?  Did 
some  fantastic  spirit  of  revenge  send  him  half  way 
round  the  world  on  some  fool's  erand?  Hatred 
spoke  in  the  man's  voice.  He  had  coupled  his  in 
junction  with  a  curse,  which  was  a  sufficient  attest 
to  the  bitterness  of  his  feelings.  And  yet  truth 
spoke  there,  too.  Go  back  to  the  island!  What 
could  it  mean? 

A  long  time  he  sat  resolving  in  his  mind  his 
course,  although  he  knew  what  it  would  be  from  the 
very  moment  that  the  words  had  fallen  from  Lang- 
ford's  lips.  He  must  go  back,  if  for  no  other  rea 
son  than  to  settle  the  doubt,  to  answer  the  question, 
to  satisfy  the  wild  clamor  of  his  soul,  to  kill  the 
hope  that  flashed  into  his  breast  at  the  other's 
words. 

His  revery  was  interrupted  by  the  arrival  of  a 
strange  negro.  Langford  had  stopped  at  a  village 
tavern,  it  appeared,  where  he  had  procured  writing 
materials.  He  had  paid  the  boy  liberally  to  bring 
the  note  to  Charnock.  The  envelope  was  sealed. 
Beneath  his  name  was  written  these  words: 

"  As  you  are  a  gentleman  and  respect  the  request  of  a 
dead  man,  you  will  not  open  the  envelope  until  you  stand 
upon  the  island." 

Never  was  there  such  a  prohibition.  Never  was 
there  such  a  consuming  desire  in  the  man's  heart 
to  defy  it  and  disregard  it.  Yet  that  vague,  in- 


35°  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

tangible  thing  we  call  honor,  backed  by  a  flimsy  bit 
of  paper  and  paste,  held  Charnock  with  fetters  of 
steel.  The  envelope  decided  him.  He  rose  to  his 
feet,  entered  the  house,  sent  for  his  uncle,  told  him 
the  story  and  bade  him  get  ready  to  start  for  San 
Francisco  that  night.  Whittaker  and  the  chaplain, 
summoned  temporarily  from  the  great  undertaking, 
joined  them  at  Washington,  and  the  little  party 
went  rushing  westward  in  a  private  car  on  a  special 
train  as  fast  as  steam  and  steel  could  take  them. 
And  yet  to  the  heart  of  the  man  their  progress  was 
so  slow  that  every  hour  he  became  more  frantic 
with  impatience. 

Back  in  the  little  village  inn  by  the  roadway 
Langford,  alone,  lay  dying.  A  strange  lawyer 
wrote  a  few  letters  for  him  confirming  a  will  made 
in  San  Francisco  leaving  every  dollar  he  possessed 
to  Charnock's  great  undertaking  on  condition  that 
his  name  be  not  mentioned  in  it  and  that  those  who 
cared  for  him  might  regard  it  as  the  end  of  a  great 
expiation.  And  so  ministered  unto  by  a  strange 
clergyman,  he  passes  out  of  sight,  having  made 
what  amendment  he  could.  He  loved  much  in  the 
end,  surely  in  the  end  much  would  be  forgiven  him ! 
Poor  Langford  1 


CHAPTER   XXV 

UNITED 

How  awful  had  been  those  two  years  upon  that 
island !     They  would  have  been   completely  insup 
portable  had  it  not  been  for  the  forethought  and 
kindness  of  Langford.     The  books  were  not  such  as 
she  would  have  chosen,  but  they  were  books  at  any 
rate,  and  she  knew  them  by  heart.     Of  the  cloth 
that  he  had  left,  she  had  fashioned  for  herself  such 
simple  garments  as  were  suitable  to  her  situation, 
rejoicing  that  she  was  no  longer  compelled  to  wear 
the  rough,  coarse,  chafing  grass  tunics  of  the  past. 
The  greatest  blessing,  however,  of  all  that  had 
been  left  to  her  was  the  writing  paper,   the  note 
books,  and  pencils.     They  had  given  her  occupation 
after  all  other  things  had  failed  her,   for  she  had 
written  down  the  story  of  her  life.     Not  imagining 
that  they  would  ever  be  seen  by  human  eyes,  she  had 
poured  her  whole   soul   out  on  the  pages.     Every 
incident  had  been  gone  over.     Not  Rousseau  him 
self   had   been    franker   in   his    "  Confessions,"    but 
here     was     only    sweetness    and    light.     She    had 
restricted  her  writing  to  a  certain  number  of  mo 
ments  daily  in  order  to  prolong  the  occupation  as 
much  as  possible,  and  she  had  carefully  considered 
everything  ere  she  put  it  down. 


352  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

She  had  dwelt  most  of  all  on  her  three  years  of 
life  with  the  man  on  the  island.  She  told  of  her 
hopes,  her  fears,  her  trials,  her  struggles,  her  ambi 
tions.  She  neglected  nothing.  She  told  of  her 
grief,  her  disappointment,  of  her  further  hope. 
She  burned  her  longing  upon  the  white  page.  It 
was  such  a  revelation  as  would  have  thrilled  the  un 
responsive  human  race  if  it  could  have  read  it.  She 
had  a  wonderful  facility  of  expression,  and  writing 
thus  out  of  her  heart,  deathless  words  came  upon 
the  smooth  leaves.  She  loved  to  read  it  over  from 
time  to  time,  thinking  sadly  of  that  other  book 
which  had  made  so  much  of  a  stir  in  her  world. 
And  so  the  work  grew  and  grew  under  her  hand 
until  upon  a  certain  day  in  early  summer  it  was 
finished. 

She  would  add  no  more  to  it.  There  were  a  few 
blank  pages  left  and  a  few  stubs  of  pencil.  These 
she  would  reserve  for  what  might  come  in  the 
future.  If  he  came  back  to  her,  she  would  write  it 
down.  If  she  stayed  there  until  she  died,  when  she 
was  old  and  lonely  and  broken,  she  would  write 
down  her  final  words  again  and  leave  them  for 
whomsoever  might  chance  upon  the  record  in  some 
future  hour.  But  when  she  rmd  completed  it,  she 
was  strangely  sad.  It  was  as  if  another  great  chap 
ter  in  her  life  had  terminated,  and  she  knew  not 
exactly  how  she  could  take  it  up  again  and  go  on 
the  unvarying  round. 


The  New  Life  353 

Twice  daily  she  had  gone  to  the  heaven-kissing 
hill  high  in  the  center  of  the  island,  where  she  had 
laboriously  builded  another  pyre  for  another  beacon. 
Morning  and  evening  with  unvarying  routine  she 
had  scanned  the  horizon,  this  time  with  an  excellent 
glass  that  Langford  had  left  her.  Not  once  had 
she  sighted  a  ship.  He  never  came;  no  one  ever 
came.  Hope  gradually  died  away  in  her  heart. 
She  wished  now  that  she  had  not  insisted  that 
Langford  should  not  say  that  she  was  alive.  Her 
longing  for  a  sight  of  the  man  she  loved  grew  and 
grew  until  each  day  found  the  burden  of  life  without 
him  more  terrible  and  unendurable  than  that  of  the 
day  before.  Would  he  never  come?  Would  she 
live  and  grow  old  there  and  die  there — without 
him? 

• 

If  it  had  not  been  for  the  books  and  for  her  task, 
she  could  not  have  survived.  Her  brain  would 
have  gone,  her  voice  would  have  gone.  She  kept 
that  in  use  by  reading  aloud  day  by  day,  page  after 
page,  from  one  or  the  other  of  the  volumes  that 
she  had. 

One  evening  she  climbed  wearily  to  the  top  of 
the  hill  and  listlessly  swept  the  horizon,  the  bare, 
vacant,  unbroken  horizon,  which  she  had  surveyed 
morning  and  evening  all  these  years.  She  expected 
nothing,  but  suddenly  there  sprang  into  the  object 
glass  of  the  telescope  a  dark  blur  which  she  had 
never  seen  before.  Her  hand  trembled  so  that  she 


354  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

almost  dropped  the  glass.  She  strove  to  pick  up 
that  object  again,  but  could  not  do  it  in  her  nervous 
agitation.  Finally  she  lay  down  upon  the  hill  and 
rested  her  arms  upon  a  little  rise  of  ground,  and 
thus  steadying  the  glass,  managed  to  find  it  once 
more.  It  could  be  nothing  but  the  smoke  of  a 
ship! 

The  sky  was  without  a  cloud;  she  could  not  be 
deceived.  It  was  miles  away,  of  course,  yet  if  the 
ship  was  visible  to  her,  the  island  would  be  more 
visible  on  account  of  its  vast  bulk  comparatively  to 
those  aboard  of  her.  The  ship,  if  it  were  bound  on 
some  trading  voyage,  would  probably  pass  by. 
What  should  she  do?  She  had  sworn  that  she 
would  stay  on  that  island,  live  and  die  there,  unless 
he  came  to  fetch  her,  but  the  longing  to  see  him,  to 
hear  about  him,  to  know  what  had  become  of  him, 
had  grown  so  great  that  her  resolution  was  trembling 
in  the  balance,  and  in  the  smoke  of  that  passing  ship 
it  vanished  into  thin  air. 

She  had  means  of  striking  a  light  which  Langford 
had  left  her,  which  methodically  and  mechanically 
she  always  brought  with  her  when  she  climbed  up 
the  crest  of  the  hill  to  seek  for  a  sail.  She  lifted 
the  matches  and  approached  the  beacon.  She  re 
membered  how  once  before  she  had  lighted  that 
beacon;  she  remembered  how  he  had  pleaded  with 
her  not  to  do  so,  how  in  doing  it  she  had  brought 
the  world  upon  her  with  such  terrible  consequences 


The  New  Life  355 

to  her.  Should  she  do  it  again?  What  would  hap 
pen  if  she  did?  She  laid  the  matches  down  and 
lifted  the  glass  once  more.  Yes,  the  ship  was  still 
there!  She  was  so  far  away  indeed  that  the  short 
time  which  had  elapsed  would  have  made  no  change 
in  her  apparent  position. 

She  looked  back  to  the  westward.  The  sun  was 
setting.  There  would  be  no  twilight.  Darkness 
would  come  swiftly.  If  she  did  not  light  that 
beacon,  the  ship  would  pass  in  the  night.  If  she 
did  light  it,  the  darkness  would  lend  force  and 
efficiency  to  it.  No  ship  would  disregard  such  a 
light  in  such  a  quarter.  Should  she  do  it? 

In  one  swift  moment  her  resolution  was  taken. 
She  dropped  the  glass,  turned  to  the  box  of  matches 
which  she  had  hoarded  for  this  very  purpose,  knelt 
down,  struck  one  of  them,  watched  the  blue  flame 
develop  and  swell  out  in  the  still  air,  paused  for  a 
moment  hesitant,  touched  the  light  to  the  inflam 
mable  mass  of  dead  wood  at  the  base  of  the  pile. 
In  one  instant  the  flames  were  roaring  amid  the 
larger  timbers,  as  they  had  roared  on  that  morning 
nearly  two  years  ago.  For  one  instant  she  would 
have  torn  down  the  pyre  and  scattered  the  flame, 
but  it  was  not  within  her  power.  Nothing  could 
stop  that  raging  blaze  now. 

As  the  flames  crackled  up  through  the  wood,  leap 
ing  and  catching,  the  sun  sank  and  the  darkness 
fell.  Her  last  act  ere  the  curtain  of  night  shut  her 


356  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

in  had  been  to  fix  her  glass  upon  the  faint  blur 
of  smoke.  Now  she  could  see  nothing.  It  was  a 
moonless  night,  but  bright  with  stars.  She  moved 
away  from  the  fire  and  sat  down  as  she  had  sat  be 
fore,  sheltered  by  the  peak,  to  watch  the  sea.  Now 
that  she  had  done  what  she  had  sworn  not  to  do, 
she  was  eager  for  the  success  of  her  attempt.  In 
deed,  she  thought  that  if  yon  ship  did  not  see  that 
fire  and  did  not  come  to  the  island  and  take  her  off, 
this  time  she  would  really  die;  she  could  not  stand 
another  disappointment. 

And  so  she  waited,  wondering,  through  long 
hours  while  the  flames  exhausted  themselves  and  by 
and  by  fell  to  a  heap  of  glowing  ashes.  Suddenly 
there  leaped  out  through  the  darkness  a  distant 
twinkle  of  light.  It  was  too  low  for  a  star.  Feel 
ing  for  the  telescope,  she  found  it  and  with  difficulty 
focussed  it  on  the  tiny  spark.  It  was  a  red  light, 
the  light  of  a  ship !  The  vessel  had  seen  the  signal. 
It  was  nearer,  much  nearer  now.  She  knew  about 
how  far  such  a  light  could  be  seen.  The  ship  was 
coming  toward  her.  She  almost  fainted  from  the 
revulsion  of  feeling  from  hope  to  certainty,  from 
anxiety  to  assurance. 

As  she  watched  it,  she  suddenly  saw  a  dash  of 
sparks  from  the  smoke  stack.  Fixing  her  eyes  on 
the  light  again,  she  thought  she  caught  a  glimpse  of 
a  white  blur.  For  a  moment  her  heart  sank  at  the 
thought  that  it  might  be  Langford's  yacht,  and  yet 


The  New  Life  357 

even  his  vessel  would  be  welcome,  any  boat,  indeed. 
The  light  grew  larger.  The  night  was  very  still, 
the  sea  entirely  calm;  sound  carried  a  great  way 
under  such  circumstances.  Presently  she  heard  the 
throb  and  beat  of  a  screw.  The  vessel  was  coming 
nearer.  There  was  some  faint  light  from  the  many 
stars  above  her  head.  She  thought  she  could  make 
out  the  bulk  of  the  ship. 

It  was  close  at  hand  now.  She  must  go  down  to 
the  beach  to  meet  it.  She  rose  to  her  feet  and 
started  down  the  hill.  She  went  slowly,  cautiously 
at  first,  but  finally  she  broke  into  a  reckless  run. 
She  strayed  from  the  path  in  her  excitement,  her 
foot  caught  in  a  projecting  root.  A  sharp,  excru 
ciating  pain  shot  through  her.  Something  seemed 
to  break  in  her  ankle.  She  pitched  forward  on  her 
face  and  lay  still. 

When  she  came  to  her  senses  light  was  shining 
in  her  eyes.  Men  stood  about  her  holding  ships' 
lanterns.  Someone  bent  over  her  as  someone  had 
bent  over  her  five  years  before  when  she  lay  sense 
less  on  the  sand.  A  voice  she  knew  called  to  her; 
arms  to  whose  touch  she  thrilled  gathered  her  up; 
she  felt  a  heart  beat  against  her  own.  He  had 
come  back.  He  was  there. 

"  Woman,"  said  the  man,  "  I  have  come  back 
to  you." 

"  Man,"  returned  the  woman,  oblivious  of  those 
who  stood  around,  holding  the  lights,  to  whom  she 


358  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

gave  no  single  thought — indeed  they  were  those  who 
knew  her  well — "Man,"  she  asked,  true  to  her  re 
solution,  "  do  you  love  me  as  much  as  on  that 
night?" 

"  More,  a  thousand  times !  " 

"And  do  you  think  me  worthy     .     .     .?" 

"  Do  not  ask!     It  is  I  who  am  unworthy  of  you." 

"  I  can  die  now,"  said  the  woman  softly,  lapsing 
into  unconsciousness  again. 

"Great  God!  "  cried  the  man,  straining  her  to  his 
breast  again,  "  have  I  found  her  only  to  lose  her." 

"  Let  me  look,"  said  the  surgeon  whom  by  good 
chance  they  had  picked  up  at  San  Francisco.  "  She 
didn't  look  like  a  dying  woman  a  moment  since. 
Lay  her  down,  man,  and  stand  back." 

Whittaker  and  the  chaplain  pulled  Charnock 
aside.  The  surgeon  took  his  place  by  the  prostrate 
figure. 

"  Lights  here !  "  he  cried.  He  made  such  rapid 
examination  as  he  could,  seeing  in  a  moment  one 
foot  lying  inert,  out  of  place,  and  helpless.  "  She's 
only  fainted,"  he  said.  "  It's  her  ankle.  She's 
broken  it  in  the  darkness  coming  to  meet  us.  We 
will  take  her  to  the  ship." 

"  No,"  said  the  man,  "  she  must  come  of  her  own 
free  will.  Send  to  the  ship  for  bandages  and  what 
ever  you  require." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  surgeon,  rising  and  con 
ferring  hastily  with  Mr.  Whittaker.  "  Meanwhile, 


The  New  Life  359 

your  handkerchiefs,  gentlemen,  and  some  cold 
water." 

"There  is  a  spring  hereabouts,"  said  the  man, 
"on  the  other  side  of  the  hill." 

"  I  will  fetch  the  water,"  said  the  chaplain. 

He  was  wearing  a  tightly  woven  straw  hat  in 
which  he  could  easily  carry  it. 

Mr.  Whittaker  turned  and  ran  to  the  beach, 
whence  he  sent  the  boat  off  to  the  ship.  The  sur 
geon  meanwhile  had  bound  up  the  woman's  ankle, 
had  bathed  it  with  water  and  whiskey,  and  had 
forced  some  of  the  spirit  down  the  woman's  throat, 
but  the  man's  touch,  his  presence,  would  have  suf 
ficed  to  call  her  back  to  life. 

"  Do  you  suffer?  "  he  asked  tenderly  as  conscious 
ness  returned  to  her. 

"  Not  since  you  are  here,"  she  said.  "  I  ran  to 
meet  the  ship  and  fell  and  hurt  my  ankle." 

'  The  doctor  has  fixed  it  up  for  you.  We  have 
sent  to  the  ship  for  bandages." 

"  Man,"  she  said,  "whose  ship  is  it?" 

"  Mine." 

"Did  you  see  my  signal?" 

'  Yes,  we  were  glad  because  it  told  us  that  you 
were  alive,  but  we  were  coming  directly  here." 

"  And  did  you  come  for  me?  " 

"  For  you  only." 

"How  did  you  know  that  I  was  here?" 

"  I  didn't  know  it." 


360  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

"Why  did  you  come,  then?" 

"  I  was  sent  here." 

"Who  sent  you?" 

"  Langford." 

"Did  he  tell  you  I  was  here?" 

"  No,  he  told  me  to  go  back  to  the  island,  that 
was  all." 

"Nothing  more?" 

"He  gave  me  a  letter  which  I  was  to  open  when 
I  set  foot  upon  it." 

"  Open  it  now,"  said  the  woman. 

She  had  risen  to  a  sitting  position.  He  knelt  be 
side  her,  his  arm  around  her  supporting  her.  He 
carried  the  letter  in  his  pocket.  He  had  slipped  it 
there  as  he  started  for  the  shore.  He  took  it  out 
and  handed  it  to  her. 

"  You  may  open  it,"  he  said. 

With  trembling  fingers  she  tore  the  envelope. 
Inside  there  was  nothing  for  him,  but  a  smaller  en 
velope  addressed  to  her.  The  chaplain  held  the 
light  close  to  enable  them  to  see. 

"  It  is  for  me,"  she  said,  "  not  for  you." 

"  Yes,"  said  Charnock  gravely,  stifling  a  spasm 
of  jealousy  in  his  heart. 

She  laid  it  in  his  hand. 

"  You  may  open  it." 

"  Not  I,"  returned  the  man,  touched  by  this  con 
fidence.  "  It  is  for  you." 

Without  more  ado  she  tore  open  the  second  en- 


The  New  Life  361 

velope.  A  little  slip  of  paper  fell  from  it.  His 
message  was  astonishingly  brief.  While  Charnock 
resolutely  averted  his  head,  she  read  these  words: 

"  I  broke  my  word  once  to  your  sorrow ;  I  break  it  again 
to  your  joy.  Won't  you  try  to  remember,  now  that  I  am 
gone,  that  I  tried  to  make  amends  and  that  I  gave  him 
back  to  you." 

She  stared  at  the  paper  a  moment,  and  then  she 
read  the  simple  words  aloud. 

Charnock  understood  vaguely  that  .in  some  way 
Langford  had  known  that  the  woman  was  alive — • 
how  he  could  ascertain  later — and  that  she  had 
made  him  promise  not  to  tell;  that  he  had  broken 
his  promise,  and  died. 

"  '  Now  that  I  am  gone ! '  I  don't  understand  the 
words,"  said  the  woman. 

'  They  are  his  last  words,  I  take  it,"  answered 
the  man.  "  He  looked  like  a  dead  man  when  he 
came  to  me  at  my  house  in  Virginia  and  told  me  to 
go  back  to  the  island." 

"  Poor  Langford !  "  said  the  woman. 

"  May  God  have  mercy  on  him ! "  added  the  old 
chaplain  solemnly.  He  knew  the  story,  too. 
"Do  you  forgive  him,  my  child?"  asked  the  old 
man  as  he,  too,  turned  away  to  leave  these  two 
alone. 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  answered  the  woman. 


362  The  Island  of  Regeneration 

"And  do  you  forgive  me?"  asked  Charnock 
softly. 

"With  all  my  heart!"  again  answered  the 
woman,  but  with  a  change  in  the  intonation  that 
made  all  the  difference  in  the  world  between  the 
two  statements. 

She  turned  her  face  toward  him.  She  reached 
her  arms  up  to  his  neck  as  he  bent  over  her.  She 
forgot  everything  in  the  long  kiss  he  pressed  upon 
her  trembling  lips  while  he  held  her  close  to  his 
heart,  in  that  still  and  starry  night,  on  that  gem-like 
island  of  regeneration,  in  that  far  Pacific  sea. 


THE    END 


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